


Emergency

by EmeraldUrAFreak



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Absent Parents, Awesome Greg Lestrade, Broken John, Case Fic, Graphic Description of Corpses, Helping Each Other, Horror, Hurt John Watson, Insecure John, John Whump, Johnlock - Freeform, Lestrade Is The Best, M/M, Mild Gore, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, Non-Graphic Violence, Older Sherlock, Others May Apear, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Papa Greg, Sherlock Fixing John, Sherlock Helping, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Slightly Oc Sherlock, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenlock, Younger John, dad lestrade, hospitalized John, idk things happen, kinda horror, my headcanon, papa lestrade, somewhat graphic descriptions of violence, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19135027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldUrAFreak/pseuds/EmeraldUrAFreak
Summary: Recovering drug addict Sherlock Holmes meets supposedly permanently hospital stuck John Watson. As they become freinds- and maybe even more - they have ups and downs finding out each other’s pasts. Sherlock is shocked at how deep Johns goes resulting in a case of new stakes. Fixing old relations and creating new ones are hard to keep in this dreadful time. They never knew what was waiting around the corner.~25 Chapters Is An Estimate That May Be Exceeded~Also Posted On Wattpad~Still In Regular Updates~





	1. And So We Begin

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot commit that I will be on this all the time as I have a traveling life style but when interest and time are good I will update. Rating is only teen and up because of random swearing

~[Coverart](https://www.deviantart.com/emeraldurafreak/art/Emergency-809469214)~

 

"Sherlock, you are to stay here. I hear any talk that you even attempted to leave this room and you'll be strapped to the wall." The tall man lectured the younger one on the bed. The younger just recently came in screaming of things no-one could make out.

"Yes, yes of course. Leave now, Mycroft." The younger-Sherlock- grumbled rolling his eyes. The tall man-Mycroft- sighed annoyed turning away from Sherlock to the door when he noticed the boy staring at them through the open door across the hall. Even Sherlock looked over to see what caused his brother to pause. They both stared at the boy strapped to the bed across the hall with a questioning stare. The boy did nothing just kept staring at his vacant stare at Sherlock, it made him fidget with unease. "Do be on your way." He forced out past his discomfort.

"Fine. Good luck brother mine, I will be watching."

"Yes, as always, goodbye." Mycroft sighed irritated then left. Sherlock waited until he was around the hall before running across the hall to the boys room. He was strapped to his bed, looking drowsy( in comfortable clothes though so probably here for a while)and had a breathing tube down his throat, which was inconvenient as he wouldn't be able to speak. The room was colder than his own smaller and missing the large wall wide window like his own on the back wall, instead leaving it blank.

"Why were you staring at me?" Sherlock demanded, the boy just blinked groggy moving his head a bit from side to side. "If your trying to deny it there's no point I saw you." The boy shook his head again but more forceful causing his head to slowly fall off his pillow and on the side of the bed. "Now look what you've done." Sherlock reaches out and lifted his head lightly back onto the pillow before backing away.

He was slightly taken back by the action he just helped no less touched another person willingly. He never helped anyone let alone touch them in any form so this was a bit of a shock. The boy looked slightly more aware now and was noticing his discomfort, so he tapped his foot lightly to the edge rail of the bed, the shackle and metal bar clanging against each other loudly in the silence.

Sherlock looked down at it noticing he was pointing with his bare big toe at the wall in front of him. So he looked that way to find a bulletin board filled with drawings and paintings, over on the desk in the corner paper and different kinds of paints and pencils. Sherlock prided himself in being observant, seeing what other people can't, so this level of missing something that's right in front of him makes him feel like Anderson.(One of the idiot doctors he met.)

"Alright Johnny lets- oh! Mr Holmes!" The lady exclaimed. Sherlock spins around in surprise to look at the women in the doorway, it was Mrs Carson, he had met her at the front desk. She was holding some sort of medical instrument he couldn't identify, it seemed to be a kind of helmet. The woman herself was late forties, hair just starting to gray, loss of child the way she seemed to baby the boy and average marriage by her wedding ring.

"Mrs Carson, I uh-"

"Never mind you with making up excuses. Just get back to your room before Martha -Mrs Hudson- returns, your brother will be most displeased if she reports you missing."

"Of course, brothers always watching." He replied bitterly, silently cursing his brother he moved to the door before stopping to look back at the other boy. Mrs Carson was propping him up on pillows and messaging his neck, prattling along about nonsense but the boy was still looking at him with his glassy eyes. It was still unnerving and chilling as he seemed to be staring right threw him. That's when he realised he was actually trying to stare threw him, at the window in his own room, when he was pointing at the wall with his toe he was pointing at the picture of the sky on his wall. That made much more sense. He quickly moved across the hall to his own room to open the blinds for his window, then looked back over at the boy whose answering smile could light a room. Admittedly it was small and tired but extremely happy nonetheless. He sat on his bed and looked out as well.

He didn't know why he wished to please the boy but perhaps it was the look of helplessness in his eyes he wished to banish completely as it seemed to mirror his own. He didn't seem to be the kind of person that should have such a look. A knock on the outside of his open door shook him from his thoughts.

"Mrs Hudson, lovely to see you again." He said as she entered, she had been his rock years ago when he first fell into drugs, surely his brother was predicting the same outcome again. She was a kind women by fault and was a marvel for even putting up with him in the first place, the other nurses called her a saint, he was inclined to agree.

"I wish I could say the same dear, but I wished we wouldn't meet here again."

"Last time?"

"You said that the last time."

"Sorry." He looked down abashedly and she just chuckled a bit bitterly and sat beside him on the bed. As she went about checking him over Sherlock figured it best to ask now.

"Mrs Hudson, who is that boy over there?" He asked inclining his head slightly to the room across the hall where the boy was being hooked up to the helmet machine.

"Oh, that's John. Poor soul."

"What happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure, I'm not his doctor mind you but from what I hear, he was in an accident, not sure what. But the ladies in the lunchroom seem to think it was a house fire, anyway. Head injury when he came in, you only missed him by a day actually when you were discharged, which reminds me-"

"Mrs Hudson, back on topic if you please."He snapped lightly.

"Of course, dear." She just takes it all in stride. "So head wound they rushed him into surgery ten hours later Terry-Mrs Carson- checked on him and she found out,(Some technical crap the author didn't want to look up or even think is a thing) basically he has been cut off from most of his functions or so his mind thinks."

"So his mind thinks he can't do what exactly?" He asked incredulously. How could the mind possible make bodily functions psychosomatic.

"It depends on the day, sometimes he can walk with the nurses help, some days he's stuck in his bed and other days like today he doesn't have any control, his body moves without his command and we have to tie him down and sedate him. His doctor said that may just be his life, some doctors and nurses are convinced he just needs love to help keep his mind off of it. It's a tragedy, like right out of a book."

"Yeah.." A tragedy indeed, to only have control over your own body when your mind sees fit, is unimaginable. He'd have to ask Lestrade if he could get his file maybe this could be a cold case, maybe he could help John.

"Do you have a last name?"

"Watson. But it's best not to dwell on it dear, perhaps he just needs time." She says patting his arm and getting ready to stand, he grabs her wrist as she does so. She jumps a bit looking taken aback at contact from him.

"Could I-" He cut himself off, not sure what he's saying. It was odd the words just seemed to come out of nowhere without a thought to it, even grabbing Mrs Hudson was like instinct. She seemed to know what he was about to say though and looked at him knowingly sympathetic.

"It's alright dear. I'm sure John would like a friend. You go see him, just make sure you tell Terry before heading over so she can tell you how good he's doing that day."

"Mycroft-"

"You don't worry dear, I won't tell him." She really was a saint, if Mycroft stuck his fat nose in this He'd start asking questions Sherlock didn't know the answer to himself.

"Thank you, truly." Mrs Hudson knew the importance of Sherlocks 'thank yous' as they were few and far in between even just having a conversation was usually cut short from his proclamations of 'boring'. His interest in John however odd and very un-Sherlock it was refreshing to see him caring for someone else. To actually sympathize with someone else's heartbreak was new to anyone who knew him and Mrs Hudson knew that and was mindful as such. She knew not to tell or ask as it could mess with this curious interest, so she would watch and wait to see what would become of it from afar.

"Of course, anything for you Sherlock." She replied standing and pressing a kiss to his forehead before leaving him to look back across the hall.


	2. His Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t have a beta so there may be mistakes, enjoy!

The next morning was dull to Sherlock, Mrs Hudson came in and checked him over. He asked for morphine, she said no, he asked for cocaine, she said no, in a last attempt he asked for a cigarette, she smacked him upside the head and left. ‘Still wasn’t a no’ he had yelled back at her, she didn’t seem to care.

After that he sat there looking out the window doing nothing, it was dreadful. John’s door had been closed all day so he figured it was a bad day, then again he never asked. It was odd he wanted to see John again, it’s not like they had some deep conversation or anything, he walked in spoke to himself practically and got caught. But for some unknown reason the feeling remains.

He reaches across his bed to grab his phone and dialed Lestrade, perhaps he had John’s case.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade.” He picked up in a tired voice

“I need a case.” Is all he said back. There was an audible sigh and groan on the other side then the ruffling of papers.

“Sherlock, listen-”

“No. Stop you right there. I don’t need an out, I've only been here one day I can suffer through at least one more then i'll ask. I need a case a specific one.”

“Okay, what’s it for?” He asked, hesitantly.

“Never mind that just get me the case.”

“Alright, but you’ll owe me for this one, I’m very busy.”

“Yes, yes I’m sure.”

“Good. I’m going to need something a name at least and probably a description of what happened.”

“John Watson. I wouldn't be calling you if I knew what happened.” The silence on the other end was terrifying. “What? What, is it? Why are you silent?” He demanded, slightly panicked.

“Oh god, I remember that case, it was awful.” He sounded horrified, and it shook Sherlock to the bone. Lestrade was, a good man, a strong one and it took a lot to rile him. So John’s case must have been truly horrible. Sherlock swallowed thickly before answering.

“What happened?” He asked slowly, cautiously. He heard Lestrade sigh again and start typing while he spoke.

“From what I remember, and I remember that one well, trust me. It started as a call, just some domestic violence the neighbors heard shouting and called, it was a poor area the house was a trailer in a trailer park, and I was the closest so I called in first. This was six years ago but I still remember it like it was yesterday.” He stopped for a moment to take a shuddering breath, Sherlock waited frozen. “I could hear the yelling from outside as I got out of the car, it was just me as my partner was away on her maternity leave, anyway. When I tried to open the door it was locked so I knocked, everything went eerily silent, it was creepy to hear screams go immediately quite. The door opened to an older man fifty’s or older I’d say, I asked him if I could come in, he asked why and I said cause the neighbors called and he shut the door on me. The yelling started again and I could hear a kid screaming for help but I couldn’t get in, I called for backup the fire department got there first and broke open the door. They helped restrain the man as I looked for the kid,-“ he paused again seeming to choke on his words, Sherlock couldn’t blame him, he already felt like throwing up and he hadn’t even heard it yet. “Oh god, the state I found him in. He was beaten on the ground locked from the outside, in a room in the back. I picked him up and brought him out, by that time an ambulance and more police officers were there so we got him to the hospital. It wasn’t anything that could permanently disable him but the man, who turned out to be his uncle was arrested and the boys parents were killed a year before so I offered to take him in for a while.” He paused again but it didn’t seem like he wanted to continue.

“You can just send me the file-“

“No, no. It’s fine.” He really didn’t sound like it. 

“Then?” Sherlock let the question hang while Lestrade got his bearings. 

“I got involved, attached. You know it made me almost believe you when you said ‘caring is not an advantage’.”

“I was wrong.” He snorted at that, even through the phone Sherlock could tell he was rolling his eyes with bitter laughter.

“John is just a kid, younger than you, you know. And the way he acted, as if it was his fault, fucking messed up.”

“You should come here, to tell me the rest and see him.”

“I will, just give me some time, yeah? I’ll get that file for you.”

“Of course. Goodbye.”

“See you later.” The resounding click rung in Sherlock’s ears as he lowered his phone to his lap. He felt like he was in shock, he had no idea and that wasn’t even the whole story. John’s family was gone, his own uncle beat him and he still didn’t know how he got his head injury. 

He fell back into his pillow and after thinking for a bit fell asleep, for the first time in a while.

When Sherlock woke up again it was late afternoon not yet getting dark but sun just starting to go down. The first thing he did was look over to John; he was watching his window again but this time sitting up on his own, looking much more in control. He only had a breathing mask instead of the tube which was good they could talk and no shackles. Sherlock got up from his bed stretched a bit before going over to John’s doorway tapping it to get his attention. John looked over smiling slightly before removing the mask and setting it beside him.

“Your Sherlock then?” He was surprised to hear John's voice, let alone his own name and it definitely showed from the answering smile from John. “Mrs Carson told me your name, I hope you don't mind.”

“No, not at all. I actually asked for yours as well, John.” They both smiled abashedly looking down a minute before John tapped the space on the bed next to him.

“Come sit.” He knew he probably shouldn’t, someone would come and he would get yelled at again and forced to leave, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice. So he walked across the small space to his bed and sat by John’s legs that were swaying slightly from side to side.

“Thank you, for opening your window for me yesterday, it helped.”

“It was nothing.” John smiled anyway he looked like he was going to say more but Mrs Carson came in with that helmet looking thing again and John’s face dropped. His eyes went back to that vacant state.

“Oh, Mr Holmes, back again are we?” She asked and he made his move to stand when she pushed him down by his shoulder and moved to the other side of the bed. “Your fine, I spoke to Martha, it seems your authorized.” 

She started to hook up the machine to the wall while Sherlock sat beside John who was nervously fidgeting. John couldn't seem to keep his hands still, they were in the rough blankets, then in his too long hair then back down again, this continued for a few minutes while she fixed the helmet. Sherlock was starting to get annoyed at the movements and apparently John was too, as he was slightly glaring at his hands for moving on their own. 

Sherlock didn’t even think as he grabbed both of John’s hands in his own and held them together, pulling them down to the mattress. They both looked shocked by the movement and Sherlock quickly looked to the nurse to see if she would disapprove but she just smiled and continued working. They sat in silence for a minute till the helmet flared to life with a buzzing noise. Mrs Carson pulled a chair over and sat, lifting the device to his head and hooking it to a monitor.

“What is that?”Sherlock asked cautiously, eyeing the machine with equal interest and skepticism.

“Oh nothing to worry about. It’s just the W.A.Y. It’s an acronym you see stands for Wave Assessor Yellow, its yellow because of the small piece of tape on the back we have a few so it's easier to keep track by color. We also have W.A.R.,W.A.G. and W.A.P. We make sure to give John W.A.Y. everytime.” John cracks a small smile, before going back to concentrating. ”It's a simple device really but very effective for specific cases, it asses brain waves and so with John we can guess how his body will react through out almost the whole day. All John has to do is concentrate on one thing and it buzzes to life.”

“Interesting.”

The W.A.Y. beeped and the screen turned on, but it was facing away so Sherlock couldn’t see what it said. From the smile on her face he was guessing it was good, John’s face relaxed as he saw her smile.

“It seems to be a good day, I’d imagine if your up for it you could go for a walk soon. I’m sure Mr Holmes would love to take you.” She told him as her eyebrows went up and gave a mischievous wiggle. Sherlock was slightly taken aback -again- but not entirely opposed.

“Okay.” John said happily as she took off the helmet before doing a double take and looking at Sherlock unsure. “O-Only if you want to of course. I wouldn’t want you to if-”

“No it’s fine. If you think your ready, let’s go.” John smiled relieved.

“Well I’ll leave you to it then. Be careful and-” she said as she started gathering the W.A.Y.  
-don’t leave the hospital.” John said with her at the end making her smile.

“I know. I won't be a smartass and walk on my own, I won't ignore my body and not take a break, I won't use the stairs and I won't go on the balconies.”

“I think you just ignored that first one, smartass.”

“I’m serious I’ll be fine. Plus I’ve got Sherlock.” They smiled at each other for a moment before looking back to see she had a smug look on her face.

“Yeah, okay. Good luck.” As she left with the equipment a silence fell upon them. It wasn’t necessarily an awkward silence but it also wasn’t a comfortable one. Sherlock got up and came around the bed to hold his hands out.

“Come on, let’s get a move on.” John looked hesitant and he slid his bare feet to the floor turning towards Sherlock but still not taking the offered hands. “What is it?”

“Um, just a question, if you don’t mind.” He asked in a timid voice looking down.

“Alright, go ahead.” Sherlock answered dropping his hands to rest at his sides.

“Well, why are you helping me? We just met, I’m sure you have your own problems, you don’t have to stay.” Sherlock felt immediately stupid he should have realised John would go there, Lestrade had said he blamed himself, he probably thought he didn’t deserve the help. He quickly strode forward and placed his hands on John’s shoulders, causing him to startle and look up.

“I like you, John, for what reason I can't fathom. I’m not inconveniencing myself by being here helping you, odd as it is, I actually want to help you. You shouldn’t act like you don’t deserve to be helped or liked. I like you, I want to help you.” John looked as if we might cry but shook himself out of it as Sherlock put his hand out again. “Can I help you, as a friend?”

“Yes.” He grabbed Sherlock’s hands and pulled himself up and Sherlock steadied him by grabbing his waist as John held his shoulders. “Now, let's go.”


	3. Take Me To The Rooftops

“Careful.” Sherlock chided as John tried to move away from him.

“I know, I’m not as stupid as you seem to think. I know how to keep my feet under me.” They moved out of the room Sherlock on Johns left, hand on his hip for support as John held to his shoulders. They walked alone for a while in relative silence, with the exception of the occasional doctor or nurse who seemed to all know John and want to have a conversation. After a while of doing loops Sherlock got bored of doing circles so he started pulling John a different way.

“Hey, slow down. I can keep my feet under me but I can’t run yet.” He said chuckling nervously as he tried to get his bearings

“Sorry.” Sherlock muttered looking over to the elevator then looking around for anyone who might rat them out.

“Where are we going anyway?” John asked also looking around to see what he was searching for. Deeming it a lost cause he looked back up to Sherlock.

“Roof.” He answered smiling mischievously pulling John quickly again towards the elevator. John looked like he might pass out from worry.

“W-We can’t leave the hospital. I promised-”

“Oh, screw your promise. Come on live a little.”

“Sherlock! I’m serious-”

“So am I.” Sherlock stated swiveling back around to look into Johns eyes as he stumbled into him. “You haven’t broke one rule your whole life have you?”

“Well no, but-”

“Exactly. You have to live John, and not from behind the glass of my hospital room while your stuck to a bed.” Sherlock knew he already would cave and go anyway but he had to prove his point. He’s been stuck in that bed for god knows how long. He needs to see the world for himself.

“I don’t know…”

“Your not doing anything wrong just getting some air. Were going to be on the roof not jumping off of it.” And that’s all it took for John to hesitantly say ’okay’ and let Sherlock pull him into the elevator and go up. As they got closer to the top Sherlock could tell John was nervous from the way his foot was moving side to side spontaneously to the grip then release thing he was doing to the shoulders of Sherlock's shirt, he could tell he was pretty stressed out.

“Hey.” He said to get Johns attention, it worked as he quickly lifted his head to meet Sherlock’s eyes. “Nothing bad is going to happen, I’ll make sure of it. It’s just you and me.”

“I trust you.”

~~~

“So how was John today?” Martha asked Terry in the break room late that night. They were some of the only people that came in early and stayed late and were just cleaning up the break room for the night shift before heading out.

“Oh you should've seen him. I've never seen him so hopeful couldn't stop talking about his night out with Sherlock. It really was adorable.”

~~~

The elevator doors opened traveling the great city in all its glory. London really was a marvelous place at night.

Sherlock looked over to John as they walked out closer to the wall. He looked enraptured with his surroundings, completely in awe and Sherlock made sure to file the look away.

He kept a steady grip on his waist as they slowly made their way to the short wall that led to the edge. They stood their together just staring out into the abyss that was the night sky. The wind was chilling to the bone as neither of them had thought to bring coats but neither cared, huddling up together was enough.

Sherlock took the time to study John. For some reason he couldn’t deduce much about him, he looked to be perfectly happy with life, like someone who wasn’t confined to a single windowless room for weeks. Yet he was, what he could get was his age, younger than himself at nineteen so around seventeen or eighteen. He could tell he was hiding something by the way he kept adjusting his shirt as if something underneath it scratched against his skin. The only way he knew of John’s past was through Lestrade who unfortunately had the displeasure of being there to witness it.

John’s eyes were probably the most compelling part about him, their color a deep sea blue with a hint of silver making them shine in the city lights. They pull you into him, a multitude of emotions just over the horizon of his eyes.

~~~

“Oh, aren't they sweet! Sherlock seemed much the same, though he doesn't talk much. You could tell though, his eyes always give him away.” Martha said giddy.

They both fawned over the boys as it was,but now they were ecstatic at even the thought of them together.

“I always did say ‘Love can cure all ailments’ and they both do need it.” Terry replied as they continued cleaning surfaces.

~~~

“Why did you stay?”John asked quietly after some time pulling Sherlock out of his musings. He knew what he meant, because he thought it himself. Why did you stay when you’ve had all these chances to leave, he’s just some random person you met, why is he any different, why aren't you bored? Why do you stay?

“You interest me.” Sherlock thought for a moment trying to phrase this next part as John peered over at him. “You’ve changed me.” He looks over at John as well. “I’m not this nice, I’m not this stupid or mundane. I'm not this person."

“So, I make you stupid, and mundane?” John asked in disbelief and slight disgust.

“No, well, not that way. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try to.”

“I can see things other people can’t. You could give me the before and after of an event and I could be able to tell what happened in between.”

“You deduce.” That confused Sherlock.

“You researched me?”

“Just a bit.” John brushed it off smiling slightly. “Continue.”

“I can’t do that with you. Your a mystery to me John, one I want to crack. That’s how you make me stupid. You and I what we're doing right now, small talk, its mundane I don't do that, I find it dull, but with you it’s interesting. That’s how you make me mundane. I don’t feel the need to beat you or disagree with you like a do with other people who are annoying with their everyday things. But you are different, your complex an enigma, I want to know about the everyday things you have to talk about. That’s how you make me nice.”

“I’m just like everyone else.”

“No. you’re far more interesting than anyone else.”

“What happens when I’m not anymore?” That Sherlock hadn’t thought of, John was interesting he was compelling and complex, what does happen when he loses interest. What happens when he cracks his code, solves him, will he be just like everyone else? He didn’t think he could lose interest but he couldn’t know for sure.

“I can’t promise you anything about the future, but for now I’m here.”

~~~

“It would be much better for both of them to admit it though.”

“Yes, I agree. Silent pinning won’t do anyone good.”

“Perhaps we should give them a little help?” Martha said mischievously.

“I think they need it.” They both grinned as they headed out of the building starting to form a plan.”

~~~

"Do you think I'll ever get out of here?" John asked as they were walking back to their rooms. Sherlock was in front of him now walking backwards as John steered him away from obstacles. He was getting tired and weak so Sherlock had to be more supportive of him in the front.

“Of course you will.” John stopped.

“You can’t possibly know that. You will most likely leave within the year but I’ve already been here for four years now and nothing has changed. I’m incurable, And when I turn eighteen I lose my childcare funding and won’t be able to stay here for a week. How can you possibly think you could fix that?”

“You hadn’t met me years ago, and I can promise that I won’t let you be here for another one. If your not out of here by the time you turn eighteen, I’ll pay for it.”

“You can’t do that, why can’t you just realize what I am?”

“And what's that?”

“Broken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I will be late posting for the next week as I will be traveling by car to Texas and will not have much time to write, but I will do my best.


	4. Mistakes Have Been Made

_“Why can’t you just realize what I am?”_

 

  _”And what’s that?”_

 

_”Broken.”_

 

* * *

A bitter laugh broke free from Sherlock, a biting rotten sound that consumed his entire face, twisting into a grim look of determination.

 

“Do you honestly think that?” He sneered, falling back into his cold mask which he observed bodies and chased killers with, John had never witnessed something so terrifyingly empty from his new friend. John was so taken aback he almost took a step back before he realized Sherlock was the reason he was still standing.

 

“I-” Sherlock cut him off, he was almost glad Sherlock had cut him off, he didn’t know what he’d say.

 

“Look around you, John. Look at where you are and who you are with. We’re in a hospital for goodness sake, look at the pieces of everyone around you, watch as they fall apart in front of your eyes. Why do you think I’m here, John, if not to be put back together again.” John didn’t understand, he couldn’t. For some reason he never asked why Sherlock was at the hospital, it never occurred to him. He really was an idiot, an idiot that could only think to say one thing..

 

“I’m sorry.” Sherlock seemed to ignore John coming to stand by his side and helping him the short way to his room, in silence. As they arrived and Sherlock sat John down on the bed, he turned to leave but stopped right at the doorway. He spun around head bowed looking ashamed confusing John once more.

 

“I didn’t mean to snap.” He said in a much calmer tone. “I just have seen worse, people who couldn’t be saved. You can though, John. I know you don’t believe so, but just trust me, that I will pick up the pieces and put them back in their places. I promise.”

 

With that he turned and left, John's door shutting closed behind him as he listened to Sherlock’s retreating footsteps. He couldn’t figure Sherlock out. He was happy one minute then cold the next, he was unpredictable, a whirlwind.

 

For some reason John was drawn to him, this urging need to be in his presence as if he craved the man himself. The feeling ached inside of his chest as he stared at the closed door. It pulled and pushed at his chest at the same time making him wriggle in unease as he tried to satisfy the odd feeling. He fell to his side laying on the bed then lifting the covers to his shoulders while continuing to stare at the closed door between them. Even with the promise Sherlock had left him with he was still uncertain of everything that has happened in only two days.

 

That night he didn’t sleep until he could see the sun rays coming in from the small window above his door. Only then with the small comfort that the sun brought, did he fall asleep.

 

~~~

 

The night before had brought a fitful sleep for the young detective his conversation with John haunted him. He never meant to snap or yell at John but he couldn’t take self deprecation. It is a stupid way to get compliments and he knew John wasn’t doing that and he genuinely believed that but Sherlock couldn’t control himself. John shouldn’t feel that way he shouldn’t have to and Sherlock shouldn’t be yelling at him but at his terrible excuse for a uncle.He was never any good at self control.

 

The need for something stimulating seemed to drown him, even just a cigarette might do. He needed something, anything that would satisfy him. He vaguely wondered if he could nick a cigarette off of a doctor. He remembered seeing Dr. Anderson using one in the doctors lounge, seeing how much of an idiot he was it’d be easy to pull it from his coat. Perhaps he left a box in the lounge, then he’d just have to get in with one of their cards. Easy.

 

A knock on the door pulled him from his plotting.

 

“Yoo hoo.” Mrs Hudson said as she made her way into his room picking up stray items as she goes. He was a natural mess maker to some kind of fault he just seemed to throw things around, his father was the complete opposite always keeping things in order it was probably one of the reasons they never got along well. “How are you doing today dear?”

 

“Lovely, just contemplating life on earth.” He said sarcastically, then dramatically draped himself across the bed head dangling down off the edge. She just rolled her eyes and continued cleaning.

 

“Trust me, you’ll be back out solving cases soon.” She patted his ankle as she picked up some article of clothing from the end of the bed.

 

“Oh, please.” Sherlock drawled as he sat up on the bed. “I’ll be here for ages. Stuck in silent solitude.” He fell back again on the bed, dramatic as always.

 

“You are in no such thing. I’ve told you before they are having activities every night that you could partake in. Even specific ones for recovering-“

 

“Don’t say addict. I’m not and never was addicted just occasionally a user. Besides those events are boring and useless, I’m not an addict like all those mind numbingly stupid people.”

 

“Then why are you here, dear?” He sat up to retort but she was already gone. With an aggravated sigh he got up and put on his blue silk robe and opened the door enough to stick his head out.

 

Sherlock had to make sure there weren’t many people in the halls to put his plans into action. He slipped out and walked over towards the elevator nodding at the random passerbyers. His bare feet hit the ground with a light smacking noise filling the quiet halls. The sound of the nurses cane around the corner so Sherlock quickly found a wall to hide behind. Sure enough Mrs Hudson and Mrs Carson were among them talking profusely, one look from them and he’d be sent back.

 

After they passed by Sherlock walked quickly to the elevator it opened before he even got to it so he quickly swung around the corner and went for the stairs listening as people filed out of the elevator. He went up two floors and four flights of stairs his long legs allowing him to skip every other step and make it quickly. He slipped once more and followed the sign to the lounge. He still needed a card so running into a doctor would be ideal at this point-

 

“Hey, you.” Someone said from behind him, perfect timing. He spun on his heel to see it was (Dr Anderson didn’t seem to fit, doctors were supposed to be smart, he definitely wasn’t.) Anderson, his eyes focused immediately on the pocket of his white coat where he could see the outline of individual cigarettes and a lighter. “What are you doing up here?”

 

“Ah, Anderson yes just the man I was looking for.” He walked quickly towards him eyes still locked on his pocket.

 

“And what is it you need?” Think fast, is what people say in these situations but Sherlock was too focused on the promise of a cigarette to even think of an excuse. What need had done to his mind would be mortifying at any other time but he was far to blinded to care now.

 

“Just a good doctor is all.” He said distractedly then pulled his gaze up to his face to watch Anderson’s confused expression. “That’ll be all.” He places a hand on his shoulder as if for a friendly tap on the shoulder but as he walked off pulled out a cigarette and lighter discreetly then placing them in his own pocket. “Goodbye.”

 

Sherlock returned in a rush to his room with no incident, he closed his door and with a small victory twirl pulled the cigarette and lighter from his pocket. Anderson would just think he had left it in the lounge, idiot. Just as he was about to light it the door swung open then a loud thump of something being dropped and someone pulled the cigarette from his mouthand lighter from his hand. It was all in quick succession and in less than two seconds.

 

“Seriously? Third day your here and already you have these things.”

 

“Fourth, actually.” Sherlock corrected instantly as if a reflex, then turned to the voice. “Ah, Lestrade. Impeccable timing as always.” He drawled sarcastically. He looked down taking notice of the briefcase he had dropped.

 

“You should be grateful you arrogant sod, or you won’t get any of these.” Lestrade chided as he held up a box of something. Nicotine patches, oh heaven. Sherlock quickly grabbed them from him.

 

“Lestrade, brilliant man, absolutely brilliant. Have I ever told you?” He said in revery as he ripped open the box.

 

Lestrade chuckled amused. “No, I don’t believe you have. Can I get that on tape?”

 

“Sorry, one time use.” Sherlock sighed as the patch hit his forearm.

 

“Guess I missed my chance then.” Sherlock made a move to grab another so Lestrade took the box away and threw it on a chair in the corner of the room. “Your only using one a day, I’ll make sure Mrs Hudson sees to that.”

 

“Just when I thought you were cool.” Lestrade just hummed uncommitted and inspected the lighter.

 

“Where did you even get this stuff anyway? I don’t think they give out cigarettes and lighters to recovering patients.”

 

“I don’t see why they shouldn’t, they’d certainly get more customers. Unfortunately, I nicked it off one of the stupid doctors.”

 

“Which one?” Sherlock actually almost laughed at that, he grinned and let out a small snort stiffening the probably full throated laugh he would have let out if he had any less self control. It was a rare occurrence that Lestrade witnessed a genuine smile that hadn’t come about because of a body and even more so because he caused it, it was oddly rewarding and he found himself grinning back even when Sherlock looked away abashedly.

 

“Oh, I almost forgot. I grabbed a few more things.” Lestrade said as lifted his abandoned briefcase onto the bed then searched through it. He pulled out plastic containers of takeaway and a case file, Johns case file. Sherlock reaches for it but Lestrade snatched it away so Sherlock scowls up at him from his place on the bed.

 

“Nope, if we’re doing this it’s under my terms. Got it?” Sherlock continued glaring.

 

“I don’t see why it matters to you so much.” The second it came out of his mouth he wished he didn’t say it. He figured it showed on his face because Lestrade didn’t scream at him then leave. He just closed his eyes took a deep breath then moved the briefcase to the floor and sat beside Sherlock his eyes focused on the door.

 

“Because this is a lot more personal than you seem to think. Because when I found him he was just as much of an abandoned kid as you were when we first met. Because I solved his parents murder and imprisoned his uncle. Because l let him stay in my house after he got out of the hospital. Because every night he had a nightmare I let him stay in my bed. Because every time he woke up screaming for his father I was there to be that for him. Because when they took him away I didn’t stop them. Because when that son of a bitch broke out I didn’t get there in time. That’s why it matters.” He took a breath and cleared his throat. “My rules, got it?”

 

“Of course, my apologies”

 

“Then eat, you fool.”

 

And eat he did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late chapter, as I explained in the last one I have been traveling long distances by car and haven’t had much time. But here it is enjoy!


	5. We’re Irrevocably Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning -Slightly graphic descriptions of gore- Consider Yourself Warned.

They sat for a while just eating the rapidly cooling takeaway from down the street. Lestrade was anxious anyone could see by the way his hand was shaking as he scooped noodles into his mouth, it concerned Sherlock more than it should have. Lestrade dropped the fork and put his box aside turn to Sherlock on the bed.

 

“Okay, listen. Before I go blabbering on about someone else’s life- which I really shouldn’t by the way -I have to ask. Why, Sherlock? He’s been through enough already. So If you are going to-“

 

“As much as I would love to hear your ‘don’t hurt him or I’ll hurt you’ speech, I won’t be doing anything of the sort. I hope to help as- though I am loathe to say it -a friend. Shocked as you might be I do have a few.” Lestrade looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was lying. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him.

 

“One more thing.” Sherlock made a vague hand gesture to continue as he took a bit of chicken. “Why him? Nothing intrigues or interests you, except for a body, so? Why John?” Sherlock looked thoughtful as he placed the- thankfully empty -container on the nightstand.

 

“I’m not sure, I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” After a moment of consideration he smirked. “Jeff.” Lestrade snorted.

 

“You know my name, I know you do.”

 

“It’s close enough.” Sherlock shrugged and they both smiled. When the soft smiles faded from their faces Lestrade handed over the case file.

 

“I don’t know what’s in that but hopefully it’s enough.” Of course he didn’t know, he wouldn’t have checked. This is what was wrong, human error. A weakness the frailty of the mind, the things that will haunt you. Sherlock was taught to disconnect in difficult situations, when things got tough and you had to choose between heart and head. Always choose head. He had, and he would again. But he couldn’t now, why?.

 

“You could always just ask him.” Lestrade murmured after they had stared at the file for an unidentifiable amount of time. “Though I’m not sure what or if he remembers.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Of course. Do you want me to..?”

 

“If you don’t mind.” Sherlock said as he lay back on the bed lifting his hands together, palms pressed together, fingers at lips. “Somehow it’s easier. From where you left off on the phone.” The file thrown to the floor.

 

“Alright. Well, I told you I took him in. He was with me for a long time almost two years. There wasn’t a place for him anywhere so he got comfortable there, we developed a sort of routine. Uh, around the two year mark I got a call they were going to place him in Ireland, away from everything he’s ever known. I should’ve fought them I should’ve done everything I could, adopted him for goodness sake, anything. That will forever be my greatest mistake.” He took a steadying breath before continuing. “They took him away alone and afraid, I have no doubt he felt betrayed that I let him go. I don’t know how it happened but his uncle got out that morning we never really figured out how. Next thing I know I’m calling everyone I know from the agency trying to figure out where the kid was, no one knew a thing. That’s when someone radioed in the wreck on the M25 half the kids on that car were killed and I thought for sure he was one of them. The feeling of relief sickened me to my core that I was happy to find out he’d survived when so many had not. I tried to forget as I made my way down, too consumed by fear and guilt to pay attention to my radio. When I got there he was missing already a search party out but no one had seen a thing. We searched for hours and came up with nothing until we ventured out of town.”

 

Sherlock opened one eye to watch his expression as he seemed to prepare himself. Lestrade was a man of character, distinct in scenarios yet able to blend in with the rest of the population in other times. He had a commanding presence and wouldn’t take any ‘crap’- as they say -from anyone, he was a man of his own power and will, quickly promoting him Detective Inspector and on his way to Detective Chief Inspector. He is a simple man really, sticking to tradition and opting to marry right out of highschool which came to a tragic end three years later in a divorce he initiated due to her arrey of lovers. He didn’t have any children though he wanted them and anyone who knew him would say he would make an amazing father although he doubted himself and never adopted or tried for another relationship. Or at least he hasn’t to Sherlocks knowledge. He was young, 36, hair only just starting to gray on his sideburns truly in the prime of life yet no attachment except for John of course though he seemed more distanced from him now.His expression when talking about John was saddened as if he believed he had lost him already.

 

“The second group had found him- thank god- I don’t think I’d be able to see him in the state Fletcher had described to me, he was in some field out of town beaten to crap with severe burns passed out on the ground. I got to the scene after he had been carted away to the hospital and the place was. I don’t really have words for it. It was how you would expect a crime scene to be a bloody massacre, body parts thrown about blood everywhere but what was most terrifying was the actual decapitated head sitting upon a rock which overlooked where John was on the ground. I went to the hospital he had large circular electrical burns on his temples and wrists along with a long list of injures. I stayed, oversaw his treatment made the decisions figured out where to put him the government paid for his treatment as he was underaged. I couldn’t stay though as much as I wanted to, I didn’t think he trusted me anymore let alone would want to be in my presence. Three days later he woke up and I got a call he was asking for me so I went, he didn’t bring it up so I assume he lost the memory along with what happened when he got taken. I visited randomly here and there but I felt too guilty so I slowly stopped coming together, probably not the best option but I didn’t know what to do a.” He trailed off. “That’s all I really know, the case was open and investigated for a year, nothing was found.”

 

As much as Sherlock was thrumming with the anticipation of a crime scene he could see Lestrade needed to see John first. So he peels his eyes open and looks over to the man at the end of his uncomfortable bed.

 

“How long has it been since you’ve last seen him?” Sherlock found himself asking. Iwas more than two years he could tell just by the look on his face but needed confirmation and was trying to be nice. Well nicer.

 

“Almost three now.”

 

“Far too long.” Sherlock proclaims standing up. “Come on.”

 

“Sherlock-“ Lestrade sighs as he too stands up and sticks his hands in his pockets trying to claim the picture of nonchalant and failing. “He probably doesn’t even-“

 

“Yes he does. Come on.” Sherlock says again more forcefully. “Your being more of a child than I usually am.”

 

“That’s true your oddly subdued.”

 

“Good try but don’t turn this on me. I’m not an idiot.”

 

“Not yet. Be here much longer with these people, who knows. You’re already slipping.”

 

“Lestrade.”

 

“No you right I’m sure it’s nothing. Just becoming more human, may be a good thing.”

 

“Greg.” That shut him up and Sherlock knew it would. He always feigned ignorance with his name a long ending joke in a way. Now though it had importance only to be used when necessary. Lestrade grunted in response looking everywhere but at him. Sherlock already knew he would come with him the use of his name was significant and Lestrade couldn’t say no.

 

“Yeah alright I get it your always right.” Lestrade grumbled as he made his way to Johns door.

 

“Well 99% of the time.”

 

“So humble.” Lestrade said as he looked through the window. “He’s sleeping maybe we should just-“

 

“Wake him up? Yes I do think so.” Sherlock opened the door and pushed him in then closed it and walked off. Of course he wouldn’t stay the whole thing would be an emotional mess and he didn’t need that. So Sherlock took a walk while they did their thing he took the time to think in depth going into his mind while he walked aimlessly.

 

He thought of his time here just a short amount and it seemed like a lifetime. When he met John it was like he became a different person John had a way of softening him it scared him in a way. It made him afraid of when he interacted with other people around John and he’s a totally different person then John won’t like him anymore. When he sees who he really is he’ll leave.

 

Or what if John thinks he is faking nice around him just for the case? John has already shown concern that Sherlock will leave home after the thrill wears off and he can’t promise that he won’t. The feeling of uncertainty is terrifying and he wants to reassure John but he can’t. He feels like he wants to stay like he wants to be with John. Amazing John. Who has gone through so much but can still smile, laugh and be genuinely happy. Who makes Sherlock happy and want to be all sappy feelings and give hugs and cuddle for goodness sake.

 

He liked John in a way that wasn’t necessarily platonic but liked him nonetheless and wanted him to be happy. So he brought Lestrade to him they clearly needed each other if even just for emotional support that Sherlock couldn’t give. But more for a connection like father and son and that connection needed to be prepared before anything else happened between him and John.

 

When he came out of his head Sherlock realized he was on the stairwell heading up towards the roof. People would call it sweet. Thinking of John led him to the place they had spent the most time together. It was odd the way feelings would bubble up at the simple thought of John Watson and past conversations with him.

 

He made his way down the stairs and back to his room, it was early afternoon the sky slowly turning pink and orange then darkening high up. Sherlock had always loved astronomy, his earliest memories were of his mother taking him and Mycroft on the balcony outside his parents bedroom -which they were never aloud in- and teaching them the names of the stars. She actually named stars after them not just randomly picking one like normal people no she actually bought them each a star, it was brilliantly thrilling to Sherlock to be apart of constellations.

 

He can still pick them out Mycroft’s on the left and Sherlock’s on the right. Mycroft’s always seemed a bit higher a bit brighter in Sherlock’s mind even now his seems better as he will always be the lesser in his brothers eyes even in their parents' eyes. Well their father’s eyes more than their mother’s.

 

Sherlock made it to his room but before going in wen to check on John and Lestrade. He peeked through the window at the top of John's door peering through the darkness the only light John's small night light that lit the ceiling. Lestrade was sitting up on the bed against the headrest with John asleep on his hip, he was idly running his fingers through Johns hair while his eyes were closed head turned up towards the ceiling, they both had content smiles.

 

He found himself smiling slightly too as he backed away and slipped into his room not bothering to turn on the lights as the sun wasn’t fully set filling the room with a soft glow. He closed his door quietly and sat atop his bed just smiling content with the information that John was happy. He was shaken by a quite knock at his door.

 

“Yoo-hoo. Sherlock dear, are you awake?” Mrs Hudson whispered cracking open the door, Sherlock found himself slightly chuckling.

 

“Yes I am. You can come in Mrs Hudson.” He replied softly still smiling like a mad man. Mrs Hudson let herself in closing the door quietly before walking over and sitting next to him.

 

“You seem happy tonight.” She commented.

 

“I feel happy.”

 

“And why’s that, dear?” Sherlock pondered this for a moment he knew why but it was a bit odd to say I’m happy because someone else is happy.

 

“John makes me happy.” He settled for and she smiled knowingly. Must have been the right thing to say then.

 

“You make him happy as well. I saw you got Detective Inspector Lestrade to come back that was very nice of you Sherlock they do need each other.”

 

“It seemed like the right thing to do and it made him happy so..”

 

“So now we’re all happy.”

 

“Yes I suppose so.” Sherlock was taken aback when she suddenly hugged him out of the blue. He didn’t mind he never really did with her, Mrs Hudson has and always will be like the Grandmother he never got. He appreciated her comfort so he hugged her back feeling completely at ease with himself like he hasn’t felt in such a long time.

 

If only he knew all it would take to stop the restless feelings and thoughts  was one realization.

 

He loved John Watson.

 

Irrevocably.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wondering if I should do Mystrade- Thoughts?


	6. I’d Show You The World

The morning brought Sherlock cravings and the feeling of being uncomfortable in his own skin. It made him want to tear his hair out and smoke a cigarette. Nicotine patches ought to do it.

So he hauled himself up out of bed and made his way to the chair in the corner where Lestrade as left most of his stuff. Digging through it he found the box and slapped one on his arm. The relief was instant as always but he was itching for another.

After about two minutes of inner turmoil Sherlock threw the box across the room and flopped onto his bed. The patches were all over the room now taunting him. Maybe he'd visit John, he always seemed to make him forget everything he was thinking. 

Sherlock pulled himself up again grabbed his silk robe and left to go across the hall. He peeked through the window before entering, they were both awake watching something on Johns TV in the corner of the room. They looked the happiest he's seen either of them in a long time. He smiled to himself at his success to bring them together before schooling his features opening the door and walking in.

"Sherlock." John said immediately as he walked in then patted the bed in front of him. Sherlock sat in front of him and got the surprise of John hugging the life out of him he quickly grabbed John's arms to stop from falling over. Sherlock started cataloguing the sensations of hugging John and having him in his arms. 

John is small not just in height but in weight and he feels almost delicate as Sherlock wraps his arms around him. He's so petite not in a girly way by any means but just tiny. It was adorable. He didn't have much muscle living his life in a bed and was almost similar to a toothpick. Sherlock wasn't by any means burly but John was the smallest little thing. It really was cute, not that he'd ever tell John but cute anyway.

"Thank you, for bringing my family back together." John whispers into the embrace. Sherlock finds himself actually flushing like a teenage girl.

"It was nothing." He replies abashed. Lestrade clasps a hand on his shoulder causing him to look over from John's blond hair.

"No, it was everything." Lestrade says with a small smile. Sherlock was extremely happy to have brought them back together, though he didn't show it much he was sure Lestrade could tell. 

Even though he was trying to hold in his smile to at least keep some of his pride as John leaned back and smiled at him he couldn't help but smile back. Lestrade was looking at him with a look that screamed 'Self proclaimed sociopath my ass.' Sherlock just ignored him though he knew he was right. After the smiles faded and the silence sets in (except for some TV noise)John spoke up.

"So you're taking my case then?" He asked timidly, sitting back on the pillows. Sherlock couldn't help but notice again how small John looked on the bed and next to Lestrade a full grown, strong adult he looked extremely small.

"We were just talking- catching up -and I mentioned it." Lestrade supplies.

"It's no problem." Sherlock said offhandedly to Lestrade then focusing back on John, switching back into detective mode. "I will be, and will find out what happened guaranteed." 

"What do you-" John cleared his throat when his voice broke off. "What do you think happened?" 

"It's an interesting case, intriguing really. From what I make of it we have an artist at work."

"And that's supposed to mean?" Lestrade asked exasperated already used to Sherlock's antics, John just seemed captivated.

"It's supposed to mean anyone with clues has conveniently forgotten is dead or missing. This person who ever they are they're smart covered their tracks yet flaunted it so beautifully, an artist more like a graffiti artist specifically. Spreading the paint leaving the masterpiece yet never signing the work. Ingenious."

"So you have nothing."

"I never said that Lestrade, keep an open mind. I have theories five or six actually but I need to see the scenes and the file." 

"You have to get your act together first otherwise for the foreseeable future your stuck here."

"I have time. Just need to get John out then case closed."

"Wait Sherlock, doctors have been trying to find a cure for years. You can't just come fix it it's not that easy." John argued. Sherlock didn't blame him he had been stuck here for years without hope of an escape. 

"That's because you don't need a doctor to find you a cure." He smirked at the baffled John. "You need a detective to find you a distraction, and I intend to do so."

"You can't promise that."

"I just did."

~~~

Life went on as usual Sherlock still asked for cigarettes in the morning and John stillused the W.A.Y. The differences were only few but impactful ones. 

Like their days were filled with each other, Sherlock and John would spend all day together. The afternoon would come around and they would walk, bedridden days becoming fewer and more far in between. Then Lestrade would come bearing dinner and sometimes desert depending on where he went and how work was. Sometimes he even brought cases although Sherlock never really stopped thinking of Johns. The weekend nights Lestrade would stay the night and weekday nights Sherlock would take John to the roof and they would talk. Sometimes about meaningless things sometimes about important things like the past or future.

John still didn't believe Sherlock could get him out of the hospital but even so he humored the idea when it came up one night on the roof.

"I'm only saying it's nice to know where we are going after this is over." Sherlock argued wild hand gestures flying everywhere.

"We?" John asked probably a little too hopefully. Sherlock's argument died in his mouth when he realized what he had just said.

"Well, yes. I would hope." Sherlock replied sheepishly. He didn't mean to jump to conclusions or anything he just enjoyed John's company so much he wanted to have it there in the future as well.

"What would we do? You know, if your plan works?"

"I would show you the world. We could go anywhere you want. France, Spain maybe Italy. Perhaps Canada or America, anywhere." Johns smile was blinding and their were tears in his eyes Sherlock realized he probably looks the same.

"Where would you want take me?"

"Well first I'd show you around London maybe we'll visit my parents. Then France or Italy for wine and cheese all the gourmet foods. If you wanted we'd travel to America, New York the city never sleeps or Texas where the sunsets would take your breath away.California or Maine to visitor the beaches but I don't think I'd care though as long as I was with you." 

They were both crying now he was sure of it. Mycroft would tell him he was being sentimental getting too attached but Sherlock couldn't find it in him to care. 

Sherlock couldn't remember who initiated it but found himself with an arm full of John and a nose full of his hair. They were both full on sobbing at this point hardly gable to breath through John's hair but couldn't bring himself to move away.

“You’d actually do all that?” John sniffled into his shirt trying to catch his breath.

“In a heartbeat.”


	7. Just Read The Signs

"Sherlock.. are you okay?" John asked hesitantly as he walked into Sherlock's room. Sherlock was laid upon his bed palms together hands at his lips completely ignoring him.

John was slightly wobbly on his feet, still unsteady on his own but made his way to the bed and sat next to Sherlock. He looked as though he was sleeping though in an odd position. John has read about what Sherlock did as far as deduction but had no idea of what this was.

"Sherlock?" He snapped his eyes open, staring at the ceiling before his eyes fluttered to John. 

"Ah, John." He paused a moment to look at his facial expression. "What's wrong?" 

"What were you doing?" He ignored the question.

"Oh just thinking don't let it alarm you." He replied as he sat up and looked over at the file on his bedside table, John noticed.

"Alright, you know you can look at it. I don't mind I'll even stay here with you." John offered as he leaned back on the bed lounging at the end. He said it offhandedly like it didn't matter much though Sherlock knew it did. He was selfish though and opened it anyway with Johns comforting presence below him.

The file was morbid in every sense of the word. The uncle's remains and John's wounds all recorded inside. Sherlock instantly switched into detective mode picking out the details although hard in pictures. He ignored the faces trying to block out his feelings like he's always done before with other cases but this was John. No matter how hard he tried he could still see John's face become angry of his wounds and sympathetic to what he had witnessed. There wasn't much of importance or at least not that Sherlock could pick out at this moment too overwhelmed by emotions. He threw the file to the ground his stomach turning.

John looked over at the noise of it hitting the ground surprised to see Sherlock with his hands over his face. He was rubbing his hand over his face and hair as if trying to wash something off. 

"You okay?" John asked taken aback when Sherlock just groaned and fell back on the bed.

"Completely." Suddenly Sherlock jumped up out of the bed then turned around and grabbed Johns wrist. "Come on, let's go somewhere."

"What? Why?" John asked as he was pulled up and Sherlock pushed him out of the room.

"Need some air." 

"Why do I have to be a part of that?"

"Because I appreciate your company."

They were quiet for a while as they walked eventually making their way to the roof. They sat on the edge and John was quite while Sherlock was thinking hands pressed to his lips. It was a long while before either of them spoke until Sherlock broke the silence.

"Let's go out."

"What..?" John was taken aback by the sudden change of subject. Sherlock was truly a whirlwind and could go from one thing to the next in an instant his mind thinking far too fast for lengthy conversation. He was a wonder in John's mind something to be praised and glorified, brilliant in every aspect but social norms. But who ever liked normal.

"Out, you and I. Two people go out and have fun a date type of thing, though that's just how it's been described to me. So-"

"You.. want to go out with me..?" John was stunned in the moment Sherlock was a perfect being in every way and John was just a person. He couldn't even compete with Sherlock and just the thought of Sherlock even being interested in him was laughable.

"Yes that's what I said." Sherlock looks at John a moment taking in his expression. "Unless of course you don't-"

"No, no I do.. just.." John couldn't find words to express what he was thinking and feeling. This was Sherlock his friend, who had come to be his best friend. He couldn't deny that he thought about him like that, of course he did, how could he not? Sherlock was an anomaly a normal person would label him an alien all cheekbones and sharp edges basically the polar opposite of John. Well people always say opposites attract.

"H-How would we even.. we can't leave the hospital yet. How are we supposed to..?"

"I'll figure it out. Promise."

"You're promising a lot lately."

"Yes, and I intend to keep all of them including this one." Sherlock reassured taking John's hands into his own and looking into his deep blue eyes. "So, will you go out with me?" John chuckled a bit at how it was like a marriage proposal and Sherlock smiled wirily getting the oddity of it. "You know what I mean."

"Okay then. Let's do it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we can do this." 

"Absolutely." They both giggled like school girls about it for awhile. It was extremely childish but neither could find it in them to care too high on happiness. 

Later they would label it as the beginning of everything. When the metaphorical wheels started turning. They thought bad things were coming to an end and good new things could start. 

It seemed universe just loved to prove them wrong.

~~~

"John!" Sherlock pounded on John's closed door the next morning. Completely ignoring the sign on the outside that said 'Bugger off Sherlock. You kept me up all night now your going to have to deal with being alone for a while so I can sleep.' 

Inside the room John hides his face in his pillow and brings his arms up to cover his ears. Sherlock just had to keep him up late and now he had to wake him up early as well. He just didn't understand that John had to get a normal amounts of sleep unlike some people.

"Read the sign, Sherlock!" John yelled at him, his voice muffled by the pillow to Sherlock but he could still make it out.

"I have and I don't care." He pounded on the door again with his fists. "Come on, John! It's important!" He quite literally whined.

"The only thing important to me right now is sleep!" John yelled back trying to find a comfortable position again. He was graced with silence, assuming Sherlock had given up he curled into bed once more and drifted in and out of sleep.

Sherlock made his way to his room searching around for something to break into John's room with. He didn't bring many things thinking he'd have broken out by now so he didn't have his lock picking kit. Eventually he found two pens and brought them over.

Sherlock sat on the ground in front of his door and popped open the pens. He pulled out the ink cartridges and used them to pop the lock. He sat for a few moments fiddling with the lock till it opened with an audible click.

He jumped up with a triumphant smile leaving his supplies in the hall and opened the door. John was curled up in bed on his side facing away from the door. When Sherlock rounded the bed and saw his face he couldn't help but think that John was adorable while sleeping. Loath as he was to do it Sherlock sat beside John and gently shook his arm to wake him.

"John. Wake up, it's important." John mumbled some nonsense cracking open an eye to watch him warily.

"I thought I told you to bugger off." John said pushing his face into his pillow.

"I ignored you. Come on, get up." Sherlock insisted pulling in his arm.

"Why? Just leave me alone." John continued to whine and pull away.

"You have to get ready John. Knowing you, you'll take hours."

"What exactly am I getting ready for?"

"Our date." John shot up looking at Sherlock in disbelief. It had only been a day well really just a night John had expected Sherlock to take a while to be able to 'figure it out' he said.

"Seriously? Where? When?" Sherlock smiled at Johns surprise.

"It's a surprise and not until tonight but you'll take ages to get ready." John practically screamed in happiness and hugged Sherlock again. They both smiled like lunatics and were laughing in happiness.

Eventually John ushered Sherlock out so he could get ready for seemingly hours. Once he was gone John went to call Lestrade in need of advice and across the hall in Sherlock's room he was calling Mrs Hudson for the same.


	8. Best Day Of Our Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still thinking of Mystrade though I’m not entirely sure..

Greg was knackered he had been up all night working on the kidnapping case Sherlock had refused to help with. Honestly he wished he could refuse as well, kid cases were always the worst. They found him in the end and caught the guy thank goodness but by that time it was already morning and he had to be in work again.

 

Just as he was dozing off from the boring paperwork his phone rung out closing him to almost fall out of his chair. He checked the caller ID and seeing it he answered it quickly 

 

“John?” Greg answered anxiously. He had just given John his number the other day and it was only to be used in emergencies and during work hours he was supposed to text. 

 

“Greg, I need help I’m freaking out.” He heard John's voice came through the speaker talking quickly and as if out of breath.

 

“What? What’s wrong?” Greg replies thinking the worst.

 

“Sherlock just asked me out on a date and I don’t know what to do I’m freaking out and-“ 

 

At that point he had blocked John's voice out with feeling of relief until what John said had settled in.

 

‘Sherlock just asked me out on a date..’

 

What?

 

What?!

 

~~~

 

When Sherlock got back into his room he used his bedside buzzer to call in Mrs Hudson. He’d only used it once or twice so she’d come quickly. While he was waiting, Sherlock paced back and forth anxiously.

 

“Sherlock if this isn’t something important-“

 

“It’s extremely important Mrs Hudson.” He said as he whirled around to stand look at her and started to walk closer. “This is probably the most important thing I will ever do.” He took hold of her shoulders as she smiled almost knowingly.

 

“What are you on about now? A new case?”

 

“No, something much more interesting.” He turned away from her and opened his closet. “A date.”

 

“A date?” She asked incredulously.

 

“Yes a date. Don’t look so surprised.”

 

“Oh! it’s with John isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, you filling my head with nonsense worked, congratulations, now help me!” He whined falling onto his bed dramatically. Mrs Hudson had been continually putting Johns name into conversation and talking about dating and crushes far too often for Sherlock’s liking.

 

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Come on up.” She tapped his ankles and went to the closet to look at his clothing. “You have plenty good clothes in here and nice suits yet you continue to wear that terrible dressing gown and sweatpants.”

 

“This isn’t about what I’m wearing now-” Sherlock hauls himself up and sat watching her sort through his clothes. “-it’s about what I wear then.”

 

“And that won’t be what your wearing now.”

 

~~~

 

“He asked you on a date?” Greg asked as he was searching threw Johns trunk of clothes. 

 

“Yes. Aren’t you listening? I thought we were over that.”

 

“What? No. Of course not it’s Sherlock he doesn’t date let alone ask other people to date him. I didn’t even know he liked blokes, Its weird.”

 

“Well he did and clearly does, so your going to have to get over it so you can help me, okay?” John asked exasperated sitting next to Greg on the floor. “Please? I really need your help.” Greg sighed as he looked into John’s puppy dog eyes he couldn’t deny him much now after being away so long, so feeling guilty he gave in.

 

“Alright, fine. It's still weird I’m not saying that will stop being weird I’ll just be quiet about it.”

 

“Ta. Now which shirt? Purple or green?” With another long exasperated sigh Greg committed to his role as John Watson’s person stylist.

 

“This blue one. That green one is hideous and purple is obnoxious.” As Greg pulled out the blue shirt he head John mumble under his breath.

 

“I happen to like purple.”

 

~~~

 

“This one.”

 

“Purple, really?”

 

“Brings out your skin tone and facial features.” Sherlock grumbled about it as he put it on over his T-shirt. “John's favorite color just so happens  to be purple.”

 

“Don’t you know everything.”

 

“Your one to talk.” She threw him a suit jacket and pants. “Put those on. Where did you put that scarf I gave you?”

 

“The drawer in the left. I’m not wearing a scarf and I’m definitely not wearing that one.” 

 

“Oh, Sherlock you don’t have to be rude just because you like it.”

 

“I don’t like it!” He did.

 

“Yes you do.” He most definitely did. “It doesn’t matter your wearing it anyway. You should wear it with your Belstaff not that silly jean jacket.”

 

“Fine, mother.” Although he said it sarcastically ir really was true. As much as he said he didn’t like Mrs Hudson and bothered her and teased her and things she was like his mother more than his own had been. They were extremely close for a very long time and she had been babysitting Sherlock since he was three. She really was his mother.

 

~~~

 

“Is this good?” John asked questionably looking at himself in the mirror.

 

“Yes you look fine.” Greg replies exasperatedly. “I doubt he’ll even be paying attention.” John shot him a look. “Okay well he’ll pay some attention but it’s Sherlock he doesn’t care about clothing.”

 

“You also though he didn’t care about dating yet here we are.”

 

“Yeah alright enough out of you.” John chuckled a bit as he pulled out a big floppy hat from his trunk.

 

“How about this? I bet Sherlock will notice this.”

 

“Yeah he’ll definitely like that.” Greg replies sarcastically pulling the hat off of him and inspecting it. “Where did you even get this? I’m pretty sure it’s a woman’s hat.” John grew quiet after that taking the hat back slowly and looking at it with a sad but fond smile.

 

“It was my mothers. She used to put it on Harry and twirl her around the room.”

 

“Who’s Harry? You never mentioned her before.”

 

“She’s my sister. She’s actually almost seven years older than me, so by the time I was nine she was already leaving with her girlfriend. I haven’t seen her in close to eight years now.”

 

“I didn’t realize, I’m sorry I would’ve taken her in with me as well.”

 

“It wouldn’t have changed much you’d just be searching for a ghost. She’s kept herself hidden for years I don’t think she wants to be found.”

 

~~~

 

“See you look nice.” Mrs Hudson commented as she straightened Sherlock scarf. “I told you the scarf and the coat.”

 

“Yes, you were right. No need to gloat.” She just giggled and started working on his hair. “Oh don’t touch the hair it’s fine.” He tried to shoo her away.

 

“No it’s not. It’s a complete mess.”

 

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

 

“What you need is a comb or maybe a hairbrush.”

 

“It’s fine as it is leave it alone.” Sherlock got her hand away and ruffled his hair, completely messing it up again.

 

“It looks like you just got out of bed.”

 

“John won’t care.” She sighed looking into the closet for shoes.

 

“Do you only have sneakers?”

 

“In the back there’s dress shoes.” She hummed as she sorted through them unconsciously straightening things and putting them away.

 

“Where are you taking him anyway?”

 

“You would want to know wouldn’t you?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Lay off it.” He snapped but after a moment of silence he amended. “I’ll tell you when I get back.”

 

“That’s a lad.” She tapped his cheek and placed the shoes in front of him. He put them on and they looked into the mirror. “You look lovely. I’m sure John will think so as well.”

 

“Yes well off you go. Have to sort things out and such. Go.” He pushed her out the door.

 

“The least you could say was thank you.” He paused.

 

“Thanks.” He said insincerely.

 

“You could put in a little more effort than that dear.”

 

“Whatever goodbye.” He closed the door and could hear her muttering about ungrateful children. He looked into the mirror one more time. He took off the Belstaff and scarf so he didn’t seem to rather and carried it with him to Johns door.

 

~~~

 

“Thank you.” John said as he hugged Greg. 

 

“Yeah course. Anything for you kid.”They parted. “You know I was thinking since - well since everything - uh-“

 

“Greg?” John interrupted his nervous speech.

 

“Yeah?” Greg replied almost relieved.

 

“Are asking me out?” John asked jokingly then smiled as Greg huffed out a laugh.

 

“Goodness no. Not after all that.” They laughed for a moment thenGreg became serious. “No, just. If something were to happen or anything, I would want to be able to be there so.. I know that it won’t matter in a year or whatever but.” He took a breath and John was starting to get nervous. “I want to adopt you.”

 

“Y-Your serious?” John said shocked beyond words.

 

“Yeah, if you’re okay with that of course.”

 

“Okay with it?! Fuck, I’ve wanted this for years.” John leaped towered him and hugged him. 

 

“Watch the language.” Greg said jokingly as they hugged with tears in their eyes.

 

“I don’t care.” John laughed tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re going to be my dad. Holy shit you’re going to be my dad!”

 

“Yeah.” They took a moment to just let it sink in as they hugged. “In hindsight I probably should’ve told you earlier. Sherlock will think I’m stealing the spotlight.”

 

“Screw him.” They laughed and a minute later part to wipe tears out of their eyes. “Today is the best day of my life.”

 

“As long as Sherlock doesn’t screw it up.”

 

~~~

 

“You ready?” Sherlock asked as John came out of his room. They both pretended to not hear Lestrade's wolf calls from inside.

 

“Yep. Let’s go.” Even though Sherlock noticed the redness in Johns eyes - cause he notices everything - he didn’t say anything about it.


	9. The Conditions Of Happiness

_“You Ready?” Sherlock asked as John came out of his room. They both pretended not to heat Lestrade’s wild calls from inside._

_“Yep. Let’s go.” Even though Sherlock noticed the redness in John’s eyes - cause he notices everything - he didn’t say anything about it._

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So, where are we going?”

 

“Not sure. I probably should’ve told you earlier I have no idea what I’m doing.” John laughed and Sherlock smiled as they made their way down the hall.

 

“If you makes you feel any better neither do I.” They smiled at each other and John couldn’t help but walk closer to Sherlock even just to feel a bit of warmth.

 

“Care for tea?” Sherlock asked after a few minutes of walking around randomly.

 

“Absolutely, are you just going to pull one out of thin air?” John asked teasingly and Sherlock smiled almost bashfully looking down. John couldn’t help but smile uncontrollably at the sight of it.

 

“As entertaining as that’d be, no. I know a nice little tea shop just one block down, that is if your up for the walk?”

 

“Always, if it’s with you.” John dared to take Sherlock’s hand and as if by second nature lean into him as they made their way down the sidewalk. Sherlock seemed to lean into the contact as well just not as obviously, he even paused a moment to take off his gloves so their hands could touch skin to skin.

 

“You look gorgeous by the way, purple is my favorite color and it looks amazing on you.” John took pleasure in making Sherlock blush and look away. 

 

“The blue of your shirt brings out your eyes.” Sherlock stated matter of factly not looking at him.

 

“So I’ve been told.” John said suspiciously and Sherlock looks sharply at him.

 

“By whom?” Sherlock asks almost offended.

 

“Just Greg, relax.” John tried so hard to contain the laugh that threatened to burst through his lips at Sherlock’s expression.

 

“Who?” Sherlock looked so confused, lost, offended and ready to kick arse.

 

“Greg, Greg Lestrade..?” John asked trying to see if he was joking by not knowing who that was, clearly he wasn’t.

 

“Oh, Lestrade.” The realization that dawned on his face was hilarious and John fought so hard to keep a straight face.

 

“You don’t know his first name!?” He asked incredulously.

 

“I do somewhere up there.” Sherlock gestured vaguely to his head with his freehand. This time John couldn’t contain his laugh and started giggling like an idiot, Sherlock joined in at some point and people looked at them like they were weirdos, they loved it.

 

They went in got their tea and sat for a while making jokes and such then paid and left. It was very good tea, service and a nice place. Sherlock said he would take John again another time.

 

They made their way outside and just walked and talked. It was lovely really watching the sun set and talking idly about nothing in particular. They held hands and walked threw a park neither had been to before. It was odd John realised later on that Sherlock was okay with it for so long and he should’ve seen the signs sooner. 

 

At some point he started to get twitchy, quite literally his left eye twitched and his hands as well. John could feel it - with their hands intertwined - every tiny movement of his fingers ever pulse going through him. Each twitch completely random yet entirely predictable, he’d scrunch up his nose then his hand would twitch. Eventually it came to a concerning amount and John spoke up.

 

“Sherlock, your twitching.” John looked up at him questionably and noticed his eyes unable to stay still and focus but jumped around sporadically.

 

“Really, I hadn’t realized?” Came the quick, clipped reply. That’s when John noticed the intense breathing patterns, the sweating combined with the twitching and it became obvious. Drugs.

 

“Sherlock did you take something?” John asked with dawning horror. Sherlock was practically pacing now moving back in forth unable to stop.

 

“Probably. Hard to remember sometimes.” 

 

“What the hell did you take?” John almost yelled grabbing Sherlock’s face in his hands to look at his pupils. They were blown wide practically covering his irises. 

 

“Heroin and amphetamine. Needed to calm down though I don’t think it’s helping.” Sherlock was talking faster and moving faster, breaking away from John to continue pacing.

 

“Amphetamine is a stimulant you god forsaken idiot.You can’t mix things and your supposed to be clean!” John quickly pulled out his phone and dialed for an ambulance.

 

“It was mocking me I had to take it. I didn’t intend to mix things they all blurred together, heroin does that to you. Fun fact on heroin, did you know I could take about ten times the amount as you could and still not overdose. Continued use does that, though if we’re talking about amphetamine that’s a different story-.”

 

“Sherlock, you’re seriously starting to scare me.” John could hear the ambulance in the distance at this point. Sherlock kept talking though John couldn’t follow what he was saying anymore. He was extremely afraid for Sherlock’s health and how this would set him back.

 

By the time the ambulance had arrived Sherlock was down on the ground hardly breathing. The paramedics gave him NARCAN and brought them both back to the hospital. The doctors had to pump his stomach to mechanically remove the absorbed drugs from his stomach. Everything had gone smoothly and now they just had to wait and watch for side effects.

 

When they had arrived at the hospital Mrs Carson had taken John to his room. He had collapsed onto the bed his legs already failing him. He had cried after she left to ask the doctors of Sherlock’s condition. He just wanted them to be able to be happy but every time something goes right something had to go horribly wrong.

 

Mrs Carson came back and brought him to where Sherlock was recovering. As much as John wanted -needed- to see if Sherlock was okay he didn’t think he could see him like this. When she brought him out of his room John looked over to Sherlock’s empty bedroom and would have fallen over if it hadn’t been for Mrs Carson who held him up. He told her he was fine and she brought him the rest of the way to ‘Recovery’ upstairs. 

 

There he sat with what looked like -for all John’s imagination could come up with- Sherlock’s corpse. He couldn’t tell how long he just sat staring at Sherlock prone body, the only indication that he wasn’t in fact a corpse was the small rise and fall of his chest. Occasionally Sherlock’s breath would stutter and John would hold his own breath till Sherlocks evened out again. He sat there fighting his emotions for who knows how long until loud steps came to a halt by the door and it opened creaking loudly in the silence.

 

“John.” He turned around and found Greg out of breath and in pajamas and a thick coat. John rushed out of his chair to him and Greg had to catch him when his legs gave out once again. John held onto him with all his strength both trying not to fall and needing the physical contact. “I came as soon as I heard, how is he? Are you alright?” Greg rubbed his back and talked soothingly.

 

“Nevermind me. They had to p-pump his stomach, they said it went well but it’s the side effects that are more d-dangerous than the procedure. Now we just have to w-wait until he wakes up.” His voice cracked. Tears welled up in John’s eyes and he couldn’t stop the sob that left him shaking in Greg’s arms.

 

“It’s alright. He’s going to be fine, I promise.” Greg calmed in a soothing voice, he tried to comfort him and get his breathing a bit slower than its erratic state.

 

“I just wanted everything to be n-normal for once. Why does everything always have to go wrong?!” John had completely lost it mumbling things into Greg’s coat that he couldn’t understand through his sobs which had only intensified. Greg couldn’t help but be sorry for him. Everything had and was, going wrong and the one thing that had gone right in such a long time got turned upside down. He never wanted that for John and as his future parent he was going to make sure it didn’t happen again. For now all he could do was hold him up as John sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.

 

At some point John had worn himself out with crying and Greg brought him to the small sofa on the far wall from Sherlock’s bed. He took off Johns shoes and coat along with his own then rearranged them so he could hold the frightened boy as he silently cried himself to sleep. Greg laid there awake till morning keeping watch over his boys. He’d be there if either woke up ready to calm them back to much needed sleep.


	10. A Family We Need

“I’m angry.”

 

“You have the right to be.”

 

“He’s such an idiot. I don’t care what he says or what reason he comes up with. I’m going to stay angry, I’m done being the girl in this relationship.” Greg huffed out a laugh as they looked through the Sherlock’s room window. Greg still had to hold John up his legs refusing to cooperate with his firm attitude, telling Greg he wasn’t as angry as he let on.

 

“The girl?”

 

“You know the sappy-crying-all-the-time one. I’m sick of being that one, it’s his turn.”

 

“You both have reason to be ‘that one’ at some point or another. I don’t think it makes you weak if that’s what your thinking.” Greg looked over to him questionably. John was hard to figure out sometimes, he could turn it off then on like Sherlock could. Completely close himself off to do what had to be done. Greg could see it in his eyes, he was done being what he thought to be weak, he was going to fight now for Sherlock. Let him fall apart to put him back together like Sherlock had done for him. Greg didn’t doubt he could do it.

 

~~~

 

“Sit up.” The women said and Shelrock obliged hiding a wince when it pulled uncomfortably at his stomach and throat. She was trying to determine if there were any side effects but Sherlock already assessed himself and he didn’t have any.

 

“If you are feeling any pain we can give you a small amount of pain killer.” She said as she laid him back down.

 

“No I’m fine.”

 

“Are you sure sir? You won’t be allowed any once you get back to your room-“

 

“I said I’m fine.” He snapped and she left him alone, he closed his eyes to think. Sherlock was angry, angry at himself. He was such an idiot for doing that. Doing that to John. This was supposed to be a start, a new start he wasn’t supposed to be going back to old habits.

 

A knock came from his door and Sherlock told them to come in without opening his eyes.

 

“I would say I’m surprised but, well, how could I be.” The man drawled as he entered the room, door slamming shut behind him. He pulled over a chair to sit by Sherlock’s bedside the chair screeching on the floor in the silence.

 

After a few minutes of silence Sherlock sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, scrubbing at his eyes.

 

“I messed up, Mycroft.” Sherlock admitted his voice think with emotion.

 

“Yes, you did.” Mycroft replied in a much less scathing tone it was almost understanding. “That doesn’t mean your relationship is over.”

 

“How do you know?” Sherlock demanded snapping eyes open and staring at Mycroft with renewed vigor. “How could you possibly know?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly.

 

“Contrary to popular belief, I do have relationships Sherlock. Albeit nothing close to what you have with John, but relationships nonetheless.” Mycroft replied tightly.

 

“Relationship I had with John.”

 

“So you think, but I don’t believe this is over. As little as I know about John Watson from my brief conversation with him told me that he is not planning on leaving.” Mycroft watched as Sherlock processed the information, watched the relief crash over him and knock down his defenses. “I will stay, I realize I cannot have others help you. I need to do it, like I have in the past. This time you do have more help.”

 

“I don’t know if I’ll have so much help after this.” Sherlock choked out past tears that threatened to fall. His mind was poisoning him conjuring up any and every scenario that could happen when he meets with John again. Most of them being of John and Lestrade leaving him one way or another. Mycroft watched it play out on his face, practically desperate to help he leaned forward.

 

“Sherlock, they will stay and even if for some reason -that I don’t believe will happen- that they don’t stay, I will. I have been there for you before and I’m here for you now.” Mycroft sat on his bed and took the now crying detective into his arms, like he had done before. Sherlock was emotional and the more he repressed the emotions the more they built up and soon would burst. Become explosive.

 

Mycroft made a vow -the only one he would ever make- to be there each and every time for his brother, his baby brother.

 

He would hold him through sobs of pain either emotionally or physically. He would him through pleading for something to numb him. He would now hold him through the heartbreak of his mind.

 

The presence of John Watson was one that would make or break his brother. For better or for worse though he would be there.

 

~~~

 

“I hate sitting idle like this.” John grumbled as he laid on the couch in his room.

 

“You’ll get out soon, both of you. This was a setback but it will make you stronger.” Greg affirmed for him as he sat, Johns legs on his lap massaging them to try and get the muscles to stimulate into working correctly.

 

“I should be in there with him. He needs to know I’m not going to leave, that I’m not actually angry at him just the situation.” John argued still fuming from when he had been kicked out before Sherlock had even woken up.

 

“Mycroft will take care of that and you’ll be allowed in tomorrow.” Greg tried to reason with him.

 

“Why’d you call him?” John complained, it wasn’t that he didn’t like Mycroft he was fine and a good brother he just wished he didn’t kick him out. After a small pause Greg spoke.

 

“I made a deal with him. No matter what, I call if Sherlock’s in danger even if that means to himself. He saved my life I owe him that much.” He said it quietly like admitting it was something to he ashamed of. “He can help Sherlock more than we can, he’s gone through this with him once before.”

 

“I suppose he can. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” John said much less complaining and accepting Mycroft could help Sherlock a bit more then they could. They sat for a while in silence both thinking of what is to come. “How did he save your life?” John asked quieter more subdued than before, sometime later. Greg just sighed.

 

“Do we have to do this now?” He asked in an almost whiny way.

 

“Yes, I want to know.” John probed for answers. He had been curious as to why they had been on a first name basis from when he first called him and the way he talks about him they must be close. Greg just sighed again though more good naturedly.

 

“Alright well, I actually met him in college believe it or not.”

 

“Really?” John asked interestedly pulling his legs from Greg’s loose grasp to crisscross them and lean forward.

 

“Yeah we were in different schools but they had the same campus. He was a bit like Sherlock actually, at the time helping the police out with mysterious cases and things. Anyway, I hadn’t actually met him yet but at the end of one term the day before we were to switch flatmates I remember I went to a party with my friend. There was all kinds of crap there ranging from alcohol to hard core drugs I never drank or took a thing knowing getting caught like that would destroy my future career as a cop. We were leaving so I drove and my friend was shaking I didn’t realize in time and he started to have a seizure in the car and I was freaking out and pulled over to try to figure out what was wrong while calling the police. When suddenly he went still and foam started coming out of his mouth, he died that night in my arms on the side of the road.” Greg took a moment to collect himself. John listened in half fascination and half sadness for his basically parent to have to go through that. “Then the police got there, they somehow thought I had poisoned him and I got framed for his murder. That’s when Mycroft showed up deduced the whole ruddy thing and got into his car and drove away. I was released and the killer was caught. I was astonished honestly underneath the grief and the police brought back tocampus. Next day to my surprise my flatmate is Mycroft and he’s helping me through the process of grief and soon enough became one of the best friends I have ever had. Maybe that’s not saving my life, literally but he definitely saved my life that day in my mind.” Greg finished with a small smile and John couldn’t help but smile too.

 

“Did you meet Sherlock when he was little?” John found himself asking actually surprising himself. Greg laughed a bit.

 

“No but Mycroft showed me pictures and told me stories. He sounded like a right terror to me. I saw him once on graduation but I didn’t meet him officially until I became a detective lieutenant. Christ he was an arse.” They both laughed the mood lighter now. When the laughter died down John became sollom.

 

“I’m sorry about your friend.”

 

“Nah it’s alright that was so many years ago.” He shrugged. “I’ve had time to get over it and people to help me. Sure I still miss him and think about him some days but I still have many people who will help me on those days, one of them being the British government.”

 

“So it seems.” John murmurs quietly, thinking. “I’m happy he’s here with Sherlock, he needs him. He’s a good guy.”

 

“He his. He truly is.”

 

~~~

 

“Walk.”

 

“Hurts.”

 

“Then walk slower.” Mycroft tried to reason with the aching detective who was holding onto his IV stand like a lifeline. Sherlock gasped as he took a step his insides lurching uncontrollably. “You should have taken the medication.” Mycroft said as he held Sherlock’s hand and elbow that wasn’t on the IV stand.

 

“Don’t need it.” Sherlock argued Mycroft just rolled his eyes.

 

“We’re going to John you should be happy.” Mycroft knew -used to Sherlock’s antics- that getting him riled up would only push his drive to move. And using John’s name helped as well.

 

“It’s hard to when your in pain.” Sherlock snapped then took three more steps and sighed dramatically. “I am happy and thankful that you are helping me Myc, but your not making it any easier.”

 

“That is the point.”

 

“Sod off.”

 

“No.”

 

They continued that way for sometime taking jabs at each other with words and hands occasionally. Mycroft was just trying to push Sherlock to get better and Sherlock knew that but it was still annoying. When they reached John’s room door Sherlock practically collapsed onto his brother with relief and happiness at being able to see John and finally being able to sit down.

 

“Pull yourself together before you see him.” Greg’s voice came from down the hall as he walked toward them water bottle in hand. “Thought you might need this.” He threw it to Sherlock who just barely caught it with his hand that wasn’t on the IV stand.

 

“Just throw something at the guy who can barely stand, nice.” Greg just shrugged.

 

“You could say thank you.” He said coming to stand next to Mycroft. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

 

“Everything will be fine, brother mine.” Mycroft said softly seeing the tension in Sherlock’s frame.

 

“Of course it will.” Sherlock said unconvincingly. “Alright, here we go.” He took a breath, opened Johns door and walked into his room slowly with the IV stand and the door shut behind him with a click leaving the two alone.

 

“Fancy a cuppa?” Greg asked was the door closed.

 

“I fancy a good one but I don’t think I’ll get it.” Mycroft replied as they started walking.

 

“No, not here but we could go across the street they have pretty good coffee there.” Greg offered shoving his hands in his pockets.

 

“Alright.” Mycroft agreed and they lapses into silence the only sound their footsteps on the linoleum. The sound echoed around them ominously.

 

“He’s angry isn’t he?” Mycroft asked into the quiet trying to shake the odd feeling he always got around hospitals.

 

“Furious is a better word but yeah. Sherlock definitely won’t be doing that again, he’ll be too scared to.” Greg said with an amused huff as they started to walk down the hall to the elevator.

 

“He already is.” Mycroft said rather ominously.

 

“How do you mean?” Greg asked curious yet carefully looking over to him.

 

“He’s afraid he’ll be left alone.” Mycroft said as they got into the elevator to lead to the lobby.

 

“That’s ridiculous.” Greg replied outraged that Sherlock would even think it.

 

“That what I told him. Though you can’t exactly blame him, it’s all people have done in his life, just walk away.” They became quite again as the elevator stopped on a floor and someone walked in. They didn’t speak again until they got outside.

 

“How are we gonna fix that?” Greg asked as they walked across the sidewalk.

 

“By staying all of us, together.” Mycroft replies as they entered the little coffee shop. All they needed was to stick together and they’d be fine.

 

Like a little family they all needed each other even if they all denied it. There would be fights and disagreements silly arguments and squabbles but like any family they will pull through.

 

Stronger.

 

Together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~IMPORTANT~  
> Long chapter, yay! Due to unforeseen circumstances I will be traveling far away by car and will not have time to write. So unfortunately I will be going on a temporary hiatus for two to possibly three weeks. My sincerest apologies but things happen and sometimes there is nothing you can do about it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter see you hopefully soon, bye!


	11. The Past That Haunts Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! Fully functional and ready to work. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and have stuck around through the break I had to take. Finally though I’m back and I hope you enjoy this long overdue chapter.

 

"John-"

 

"Don't even try Sherlock. Just don't." John took a deep steadying breath before speaking. "I can't believe you did this. I won't believe it. I don't want to."

 

"I'm sorry." Sherlock as he hobbled over to Johns bed his IV stand the only thing keeping him upright. He sat with a sigh then rubbed his hands over his face. "I was nervous John. I wanted it to go right. So I took them."

 

"How did you even get them?" John asked exasperatedly.

 

"Homeless network all around the city, picked it up for me. Probably not the best-"

 

"Definitely not. I-I don't even know what I'm supposed to think right now." John sighed sinking into the mattress beside Sherlock their shoulders almost touching. "Why, Sherlock? Why would you do that?" John whispered into the silence.

 

"I was afraid. Afraid I would mess this up, evidently I did more harm than good." Sherlock took a moment then looked over to John who had his eyes on the floor. "I let fear control me and I will never do that again. I want to stay by your side John, no matter what. Please let me."

 

John leaned over and hugged Sherlock mindful of the IV. There were tears in both of their eyes because this was a start. They intended to make it work this time, together.

 

In the wake of happiness John softly placed his lips to Sherlock's own. Testing the water so to speak. Sherlock reacted immediately practically throwing himself at John crushing their lips together in a heated kiss. John gasped as he fell backwards because of Sherlock, who took the liberty of sticking his tongue down John's throat. Sherlock ignored the pain in his abdomen in favor of leaving John breathless. The light and feathery kiss turned into a full on snogging session and a fight for dominance. In which Sherlock won.

 

When they broke apart panting and gasping for air they could help but look into each other's surprised faces and laugh.

 

"I assume this means I'm forgiven?" Sherlock asked hopefully as they finished laughing and now we're just grinning at each other.

 

"Yes, your forgiven." John pressed a kiss to corner of Sherlock's lips before sitting up and binging Sherlock carefully with him. "You could have just told me you know. Or Greg or even your brother."

 

"I know I was being stupid. It definitely won't happen again, I promise."

 

"You've been making a lot of promises lately."

 

"All ones I intend to keep I assure you. Just trust me."

 

"Oddly enough I do." John's soft smile turned into a small grin. "Though I can't imagine why." They took jibes at each other for a while completely content to just sit together.

 

Things had been hectic which wasn't the plan. Plans never really seemed to work for the two or at least nothing normal on the plan would work.

 

Normal is boring anyway.

 

~~~

 

That night they slept together in John's darkened room curled around each other on his bed. Greg and Mycroft had left for the night each going to their respective homes promising to come back in the morning. Sherlock fell asleep quickly from so much activity after surgery and a small dose of sleeping medication put into his IV. Without him knowing of course.

 

John lay awake the feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach keeping him up. He was so restless he decided to get up and try drawing to help him fall asleep. He slipped from Sherlocks light grasp and walked quietly to his desk in the corner. He lit a small candle he had set up, liking the firelight much more than artificial lamp lightning.

 

The candle cast an eerie glow across the room and shadows over Sherlock's prone form. He drew Sherlock and the odd shadows across him in the dark but after he was done he wasn't any more tired. He noticed his mirror on the other side of the room, there were more odd shadows in it and one that John thought to be in the shape of a person. When he turned to see if it was there was nothing so he drew that to.

 

A noise pulled John from his drawings which he had only just finished the sketching and outlining of. He listened for a moment but the sound didn't come again, it sounded like something metallic hitting the ground. It was so late that all the nurses had gone home and none of the patients should be up. John got up figuring someone else was just as restless as he was and ventured into the hall.

 

Most of the lights were off except a few select lights where there weren't any doors. John imagined them to be flickering like some horror movies he'd seen, they weren't but he couldn't get the image out of his mind. He shivered to himself and rubbed up and down his arms in an attempt to calm himself. He just succeeded in freaking himself out more when he thought he saw a figure standing down the hall. He blinked and it was gone.

 

"Hello?" John asked wearily walking slowly down the empty hallway. He thought of yelling at the screen to not go out alone because that's how they all die. Curiosity kills them all.

 

John took a steadying breath trying to forget the thing his mind was coming up with. It only made him think about it more. Demons, ghosts and other ridiculous things flashed but murderers and assassins were far more likely. Even though that seemed more ridiculous.

 

He walked down to where the windows were on his right, his mind flashed an image of a sniper aiming for his head. He turned quickly to look out at the peaceful scene. Outside was dark but the sky was clear and lit the ground by the moon. John didn't notice at first comforted by the tranquil scene until he noticed a tree.

 

Hanging.

 

An illuminated dangling figure.

 

~~~

 

Sherlock fell asleep with John's arms around him circled in warmth and security. He felt completely safe and calm for the first time in a while. He should have known not to trust it.

 

They thought they were safe but after all the universe loved to prove them wrong. In every way possible.

 

It was almost like a lake one second it was calm, the waves slowing and it was becoming still someone just had to jump in. Ruining the stillness and creating waves and ripples not allowing it to settle. Creating chaos.

 

Sherlock lay asleep for some time not noticing as he dreamt when John slipped from the bed. He dreamed of a peaceful life with John in a flat of their own where he had a job at Scotland Yard and Lestrade got him cases and Mrs Hudson was their landlady. They'd spend nights by the fireplace and days chasing criminals, Sherlock wished more than anything it was true.

 

He was woken by the sound of something hitting the floor without even opening his eye Sherlock could tell it was a metal platter hitting the linoleum. Sherlock shifted slightly hearing the door open and close softly he opened his eyes slightly to make out Johns blurry figure walking away. Figuring he'd check the noise then be back Sherlock readjusted himself then tried to go back to sleep.

 

A broken scream ripped him from his tranquil state. He instantly recognized it as John's own broken voice crying out. Sherlock got up quickly his insides lurching in protest as he ripped his IV from his arm. He stumbled a bit as he made his way out of his room to see John down the hallway crumpled on the floor against the wall.

 

John looked as if in shock, his hands on his mouth and tears in his eyes where they were stuck to the window as he continued to cry out. Sherlock rushed to John falling to his knees, grabbing him and pulling him against his chest shielding him from the window which seemed to be the problem. John held to his shirt and sobbed in anguish as Sherlock held him close with a hand on the back of his head.

 

People came out of their rooms wondering what the commotion was then went back into their rooms assuming it dealt with. None of them looked towards the window.

 

Sherlock looked behind him as John continued to sob into his dressing gown. He searched outside, categorizing everything to figure out why John was so shellshocked. Looking so intently at small details he did not notice it at first.

 

The body that was hanging from the tree in the center hidden in the darkness.

 

Hanging a woman with long blond hair and blue eyes. Hanging by her neck arms pinned to the tree like on a cross. The saying was ‘your past will come back to haunt you’ and that has never been more true.

 

Sherlock had seen the pictures in John's file scanned over them briefly. He knew the second he saw her face.

 

The woman hanging was John's mother.


	12. A Game We Shall Play

It was light outside now, the sun having just come up in the early hours. It lit the whole rehabilitation park in the back of the hospital, bringing- quite literally -a new light to the crime scene.

 

Sherlock and John sat together in the back of an ambulance shock blankets around both of their shoulders. Their hands intertwined between them as John sat still with a face devoid of emotion. Sherlock was worried for John but desperately needed to focus on this case for him.

 

"Sherlock, if you don't mind." Greg gestured vaguely to the crime scene. Sherlock nodded to him and turned to John.

 

"John, I'm going to go talk to Lestrade." Sherlock looked to where his brother was standing by the detective inspector and beckoned him over with a look. "Mycroft will come sit with you alright?"

 

John looked blankly at him then to Mycroft and nodded slightly his eyes moving to the ground. Sherlock swallowed thickly as Mycroft came and sat beside John, a silent assurance. He quickly pulled himself together and walked over to Greg ready to be a detective.

 

"He'll be okay, he just needs time." Greg said quietly as they walked the short distance to the crime scene.

 

"I know. What do you have?" Sherlock avoiding the subject getting back into being the detective again.

 

"Right." Greg cleared his throat ignoring everything that tied John to this case to get it done. "Victim is early thirties, Emily Watson deceased 10 years ago stabbed through the abdomen and bled out shortly after, seems to have been preserved. There is a.." Greg clears his throat again and Sherlock looks to him. "A note." Greg hands him a pair of rubber gloves.

 

"They never leave notes." Sherlock grumbled as they came upon the scene, snapping the gloves on.

 

"Yeah well seems like this one didn't get the memo. There's a uh.. signature as well, you'll recognize it." Greg said ominously as he lifted the tape for Sherlock.

 

They came to stand at the tree where at the best now lit with big industrial lights a message. Scratched into the base and laced with blood it said- 'Johnny boy I've become bored without your company. Send your dog to entertain me. Or I could just collect you myself. Your move. -Jim Moriarty.'

 

Sherlock knelt to examine the carving. The name Moriarty belonged to Johns deceased uncle but his name was Roger Moriarty, so who was this?

 

"When Roger Moriarty was murdered did you look for other living relatives." Sherlock asked as he examined the blood.

 

"We did. Nothing came up only friends and the ex-wife. Nothing of a 'Jim Moriarty' by any means." Greg said observing Sherlock who was collecting wood samples. He stopped suddenly standing and looking to him.

 

"Ex-wife?" Sherlock questioned, curiously.

 

"Yeah, uh.. We'll pull up the file if you need but they were together five years or so then split around nine years ago. Apparently he tried to strangle her though there weren't any witnesses or anything to prove it. So they got divorced and she instituted a restraining order." Greg relayed the information gruffly, shuffling his feet.

 

"Curious." Is all Sherlock said then went back to the blood. "Name?"

 

"Maggie Dunn, lovely I know." Sherlock just hummed and continued picking at the wood. "So the women?"

 

"Oh forget her, she's already dead isn't she?" Sherlock said irritated, closing a small case of blood cover bark.

 

"Well yeah but-" Greg tried to protest but quickly got interrupted.

 

"There's nothing to be gained from it, so I have no use for it. Just a ploy." Sherlock was already walking away, taking off the gloves and dropping them to the ground.

 

"A ploy? How?!" Greg yelled after him exasperatedly as he started to walk away. Sherlock sighed dramatically and turned around walking back.

 

"Obviously this 'Jim Moriarty's' plan was to get John's attention. It's a game that's all it is. A game of chess and he's made his move. He needed a big enough ploy to traumatize John so he doesn't speak of what he knows but not enough to incapacitate. Just enough to get him thinking. Clearly he's achieved this and now it's just a matter of time. He's been planning this if he's preserved the body and the blood for so long. He wasn't expecting me I'm an unregistered player, and I intend to win." Sherlock swept off again without letting Greg speak again though he yelled after him anyway.

 

Sherlock had to think. This was important, a game and it seemed the prize was John. Whoever this person is clearly John knows him but he wouldn't speak of him now. He's playing meticulously every move paid specific and precise attention to. Sherlock just needed to find a weak point.

 

Sherlock came upon the ambulance where John and Mycroft sat where he left them. Neither had moved much though it seemed Mycroft was speaking to him, John didn't look like he was listening.

 

"John." Sherlock called and John's head lifted a little light in his eyes as he looked to Sherlock. Mycroft stopped talking. "Come on we're leaving." John started to stand but Mycroft put a hand on his arm and he froze. "What?"

 

"As much as I wish I didn't have to say it dear brother, John should return to hospital. As should you." Mycroft said pointedly leaving his hand on John's arm.

 

"We are both fine, Mycroft. Thank you for your concern." Sherlock ripped his hand from John's arm and helped him up.

 

"Sherlock-"

 

"Don't care." Mycroft sighed irritated as Sherlock walked off with John. As Greg came up he looked to him questionably holding up his hands in a 'what happened' way. Mycroft just shook his head and sighed again, one of the paramedics actually asked if something was wrong he just waved them off. He stood and walked to Greg.

 

"That didn't go too well then?" Greg asked tentatively as they started to walk towards the parking lot.

 

"Not at all,I'm afraid he just doesn't listen." Mycroft said sadly as he looked up to the sky.

 

"He's taking John then?" Greg asked already knowing the answer.

 

"Yes, time can only tell what they'll do. I don't believe Sherlock will be telling us. But perhaps John will talk to you if Sherlock tells him anything." Mycroft suggested as they hit the pavement his ever present umbrella swinging beside him.

 

"Maybe, I'll guess we'll find out. Though, I think both of them needed more time in the hospital to recover." Greg grumbled a bit as they stopped beside Mycroft's car.

 

"Yes, I do as well. Unfortunately not much can be done for it. We can only hope, now."

 

"Hoping is all I'll be doing for awhile it seems. You'll keep an eye on them?"

 

"Of course. Good luck with the case , Gregory." Mycroft said solemnly then slid into his car.

 

Greg waved him goodbye as the car took off into the early morning. Greg didn't know where Sherlock and John had gone but he knew they'd be safe with Mycroft's watchful eye over them. He was exhausted and knew he'd probably stay that way until this case was sorted out.

 

With a resigned sigh Greg scrubbed his hands over his face and walked back to the scene. He needed every person he could get on this case.

 

Like Sherlock is always saying.

 

The Game is on.


	13. Scars Of The Past

"It's nice." John commented distractedly as he ventured around the small flat. It was cluttered and nothing was unpacked though Sherlock had said he'd moved in last year, it was unexpected but also completely expected.

 

John's head was in a whirlwind, just when he finally thought some peace would come for his life Jim Moriarty had to come crashing back in. He remembers him from when they were children he met him only a few days after his parents murder, three to be exact. He remembers as he watched from the porch out back as Jim Moriarty skinned a stag he had shot, most likely illegally.

 

John remembers with horrifying clarity as he watched the skin slowly be cut away and the blood seeping out. In that moment one second it looked like a deer and the next his mother, bleeding out under his hands. Jim Moriarty smiled sinisterly at him before continuing to strip the skin off completely. He saw it being his mother's own leg and not the stags, he remembers hearing her choke out his name from past the blood in her mouth. He screamed as Jim Moriarty dropped the stag and came up to him grinning madly covered in blood and holding the knife up threateningly. He was dragged by his arm to where the stag lay unmoving, he tried desperately to get away. He kicked and scratched and screamed but it did nothing as Jim was older and stronger. He was pushed down next to the bloody stag as the knife came to his hip as if to be skinned as well.

 

His uncle came out then, yelled at them for being noisy and went back inside. He didn't even care about his son with a knife to his nephews hip, ready skin him as he cried hysterically. The neighbors hadn't cared either, he still doesn't know who complained the day Greg took him in. He wants to thank them but also to ask them why they had never bothered to before, when he was in so much more danger. Trapped with Jim Moriarty, a psychopath.

 

John suddenly feels the urge to throw up and scream all at once. He feels angry and terrified.

 

"Yes well, I didn't have much time to unpack." Sherlock muttered almost ashamed as he moves things around. John wanders over to the skull on the mantle and looks at it with interested.

 

"Friend of mine, well I say friend.." Sherlock says at the unasked question then continues to clean things a bit. John hums in acknowledgment as he ventures into the kitchen. It's full of messy science equipment and John can't help but be the slightest bit impressed.

 

"Impressive.." John says faintly as he rounds the counter to look at a purple bubbling substance.

 

"Just a few experiments I was working on. Most of them should be thrown out by now." Sherlock replied coming to stand next to him.

 

"Shame." Is all John says as he goes to sit in one of the chairs, Sherlock follows him and sits in the other. They lapsed into a comfortable silence both of them in their respective headspace.

 

To John it seemed as if time had slowed down as his eyes slipped closed, like the weight of the world simply fell upon them. His mind was plagued with Jim Moriarty, giving him images of each time he was tormented. John remembers every scar on his body from him and suddenly they burn under his clothing. His hands twitch with the need to itch at his scars, each one hidden carefully yet they were inflicted brutally without a care for mercy.

 

John swallows past the sudden lump in his throat, he's so angry but also ashamed and terrified. He knew he had to tell Sherlock he just didn't know if he could, or if it would help.

 

"John." Sherlock waits until John's eyes slide open looking into them deeply. "Who is he?" John has no doubt the question had been on his mind all evening. The detective never waits.

 

John almost smiles at the thought. A detective, it's what he needs and Sherlock just so happens to be one. Sometimes it's funny how fate works and John almost wishes he didn't have to expose him to this, to the madness.

 

"My cousin. My uncle and aunt's son, I always wondered why she left them. I figured it out almost as soon as I walked into the door. Any sane person would label my uncle abusive to substances and the people around him. My cousin as unstable and perhaps psychotic, but he's not." Sherlock leans forward his hands coming to his lips as he watches Johns carefully constructed expression. "He's smart and strikes with precision, every scenario thought out carefully. He knows where the edge is and how far to push someone without them falling over. He's not a maniac he's a genius with a short attention span and apparently you and I are interesting." John's expression quickly becomes angry. "We have to find him before he does something else."

 

"We will, tell me where you think he is." John shakes his head.

 

"I don't know, I knew him along time ago. Even then I didn't know him."

 

"He's out there planning something, he left that message telling you to 'send your dog'. He expects you to know where. Think, John."

 

"I'm not smart like you Sherlock. I can't remember every little thing he said to me almost a decade ago." John said exasperatedly as he fiddles with his shirt.

 

"Clearly you're smarter than most as you've got the attention of two geniuses." Sherlock smirked a bit.

 

"I'm guessing you're putting yourself in that category." John smiles cheekily at Sherlock.

 

"Obviously." Sherlock looks to John pointedly with an expression that clearly said get on with it.

 

"Okay, so maybe I don't know anything but maybe his mother would." John suggests almost insecurely.

 

"Brilliant, knew you'd get there eventually." Sherlock says jumping up and grabbing their coats.

 

"So assuming you already came to that conclusion on your own, why get me to say it?" John says slightly irritated looking back behind his chair. Of course Sherlock had already thought of that he was a genius of course.

 

"To prove a point." Sherlock says as John gets up throwing John's jacket into his arms.

 

"And that is?"

 

"You are smart, albeit rather slow." Sherlock says triumphantly then rushes down the stairs. John quickly puts on his shoes and follows after the brilliant idiot.

 

"Sherlock!" John yells as he rushes down the stairs still tugging on his jacket. Sherlock is in the street hailing a cab not having bothered to close the door. "Where the hell are you going?"

 

"To your aunts, I thought that was fairly obvious." Sherlock says slipping into a cab and motioning John to join him. John mutters to himself, annoyed, as he closes the door and gets into the cab.

 

"Still recovering keep that in mind, yeah?"

 

"Your fine." Sherlock says as he goes through his phone. John does a double take, that's his phone.

 

"Sherlock how and why do you have my phone?" John asks completely confused.

 

"I took it from your jacket and I needed your aunts address. I can't deduce everything." Sherlock grumbles to himself as he types quickly his fingers flying across the little keyboard of Johns older version phone.

 

"Alright, fine but why do you still have it?" John asks again feeling like he just went through a blender.

 

"Texting Lestrade the address as well, you can't expect him to just show up there without an address." For some reason John suddenly feels like he was entirely left out.

 

"Wha-"

 

"Shh." Sherlock says as he takes his left hand in his right. John went silent immediately quickly looking out the window and slouching in his seat a bit. Sherlock smiles smugly to himself as he texts Greg that they're safe and heading to the aunts. Out of the corner of his eyes Sherlock sees John's blush and small smile.

 

A newly formed relationship filled with feather light touches, uncertain smiles and fleeting glances. Sherlock always thought the prospect to be silly and if you liked someone to just say it. Then again he never thought he would meet someone who he could do those things with.

 

When he figured out he liked John he didn't do anything about it for a while. He didn't just say it like he thought he might be able to, he was nervous and uncertain. Now that he knew- even if neither of them ever just came out and said it -that John likes him the same, he wasn't so uncertain. He wanted to be forward and able to display his affection for John openly, which he did.

 

Clearly John wasn't at that stage yet and Sherlock would have fun embarrassing him. It was partly to get his mind off the fact of his cousin, which it would.

 

Also Shelrock wanted to embarrass John in front of his aunt, which he most definitely would.


	14. A Dinner For Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what the perspectives are doing I wrote this from 1-4 a.m. So yeah...

"John! Oh, it's so good to see you. Come in,   
come in." The women ushered them into her home and closed the door behind them rushing to get tea and such. They sat down in her living room and she handed out tea and biscuits.

"I'm forgetting my manners. Who have you come with?" She asked as she sits across from them in a plushy brown chair.

"This is my friend, Sherlock Holmes."

"Boyfriend." Sherlock says extending his hand and she chuckles a bit nervously shaking it. John blushes and pinches Sherlock's leg as but he ignores it as she introduces herself and shakes his hand before letting go.

"John, I didn't know you had a boyfriend." She says looking slightly uncomfortable as she shifts on her chair. "So, how did you two meet?"

"Can we not, right now. As much as I'd love to catch up we're here on business." John replies starting to get annoyed.

"Of course. And that business would be?" Before Sherlock can answer John pinches his thigh again. 

"We just need to know where Jim is." John says quickly and Sherlock mutters some unintelligible under his breath. John's sure it wasn't nice.

"Oh that boy. I never know where he is." She waves off the question and stands up. "How would you two like to stay for dinner? Hmm? I'm sure I can whip up something." She offers as she makes her way to the kitchen.

"We really" John tried to protest but of course before he can Sherlock jumps up and filers her to the kitchen.

"-Would absolutely love to." He says with dramatized glee as he walks with her into the kitchen. When they're out of view John groaned and put his hands over his face as he slouches into the couch.

"Why?" John wines to himself feeling humiliated and yet angry at Sherlock. Of course he had to pick today to be a jerk.

With a sigh, John pulled himself up to follow them into the kitchen. It would be a long and agonising night.

~~~

"You are the most infuriating arsehole." John said angrily as they walked away from the house looking for a cab. It was getting dark and the street lamps were just coming on to light the sidewalks.

"Oh, calm down. She didn't believe a word I said." Sherlock replied waving him off.

"You don't realise how oblivious she is. You know after you went to "pick tomatoes from the garden" she came up to me and said-"

~~~

"So, John." His aunt says cautiously sliding up to stand beside him as he chops lettuce. "Sherlock tells me you haven't been- oh how should I put this? -putting out." She says delicately placing her pan of pasta in-front of her.

"How do you mean?" John asks absentmindedly not really paying attention to the conversation as he starts cutting the carrots. He wonders if he could pull Sherlock out of the house forcefully or if Sherlock was stronger.

"Well, sexually." She says frankly putting sauce on pasta strips over a layer of ricotta. John swears he almost cut his finger off. Sherlock says he's exaggerating.

"What?! Why would I- I wouldn't- even if we were- We aren't-" John stutters over his words dropping the knife and spinning to face her.

"Got the tomatoes." Sherlock announced coming in from the slider door holding up two shiny red tomatoes.

"Oh lovely. Hand them to John to be cut up and you can help me make more of this special ricotta." Maggie says taking her pan of pasta and turning to the stove to pull more noodles from the pots.

Sherlock turns to John and places the tomatoes on his cutting board then placing his chin on John shoulder from behind. John stands there in shock, embarrassment and a rising amount of anger.

"You're as red as those tomatoes." Sherlock muttered under his breath just loud enough for John to hear the satisfaction in his voice. Sherlock kisses John lightly on his check before spinning around to help his aunt.

John wants to strangle and kiss him at the same time.

~~~

Sherlock turns his face away from John as he finishes his tale to hide a grin. John made it all far too easy.

"I can't believe you told her that! We don't even- W-Why, Sherlock? What could ever possess you-"

"Possess." Sherlock snorts looking back forward as they hit the sidewalk. John's aunt's house was in the middle of nowhere and even attempting to find a cab would be pointless.

"Whatever you want to call it. Why?" John mutters then demands ignoring Sherlock's poorly hidden grin. 

"Because that was the plan and it worked." Sherlock states matter of factor as if John was to know as well.

"What plan?" John feels like screaming. Soon enough he might.

"To make you happy." Sherlock stops in the middle of the almost empty street as he turns to look Johnn in the eye.

"What are you talking about?" John stops as well before he bumps into Sherlock. His expression softens slowly looking up into his sincere eyes.

"You may be angry now and won't admit it but you are in fact happy. It's been far too long since you were genuinely happy." Sherlock replied taking John hands into his own and bringing them to his lips.

As Sherlock slowly lets his hands down John turns his blushing face away and tucks his hands under his arms. With crossed arms, a blushing face and a hidden smile John walked around Sherlock.

"I hate you." John calls back pettily and Sherlock spins around on his heel smiling softly at Johns retreating figure.

"And I, you, John." Sherlock replies fondly walking slowly behind him. A memory comes into John's mind then, the only good part of the evening.

~~~

John bit into his food and for one glorious second there is just silence. John doesn't know if it was in his head or they had gone quite but the house seemed silent.

They ended up making a lasagna, some old recipe Maggie had lying about Sherlock had picked. John figured it was just ordinary lasagna and he wouldn't like it much.

As he bit into it he was proven wrong. It was vegetarian lasagna -which John always liked better- and John could taste every ingredient from the butternut squash to the nutmeg. It was deliciously familiar and John felt tears come to his eyes, he blinked them away.

"Mom's recipe." John said almost reverently as he looked back and forth from Sherlock to Maggie.

His aunt was looking at him so fondly with a smile on her face and even though Sherlock wasn't smiling his eyes were. Nobody else could pick it out but Sherlock did it so often John could find it easily.

That's when John remembered Sherlock picked the dinner.

John didn't care that his aunt was there he wrapped his arms around his detectives shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Sherlock hugged back almost desperately as if they were the only two people in the room and placed his head atop John's own.

"Thank you." John said choking on the sudden lump in his throat forcing back tears. He felt Sherlock place a feather light kiss on his temple and John held him tighter.

~~~

John reached his hand outstretched behind him as he walked further into the city sidewalks slowly becoming more busy. John smiled to himself as he felt Sherlocks fingers intertwined with his own. John pulled him forward so they could walk side by side and leaned into his side.

Soon cars were driving by and they could get a cab but they didn't want one anymore. Walking seemed like a better idea. They probably needed the exercise anyway.

~~~

"-and the bridge by greenway. That's it." John reads from a list to Sherlock who puts pins on the map. "Can we go to bed now?"

"I really do hate repeating myself John but you can go to bed. I need to finish this." Sherlock says as he studies the map in front of him pinned to the wall -with what looks to be a needle-. John leans into his side placing his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his other one.

"Not without you." John says dramatically. "Come on, we can look at it tomorrow, I'm sure you have it all memorized anyway. He's not going anywhere yet. Please?" Sherlock looks over to him and analyzes his expression for a moment before sighing.

"Alright." John practically jumps for joy as he makes his way to their -yes it's theirs now- room down the hall, Sherlock in tow. "But only because you said please."Sherlock teases and John swats his arm but says nothing too happy about finally getting some sleep. 

They change into suitable sleeping wear each turning around for the others privacy -John's privacy- and if one of them peaks -Sherlock- then no harm done.

They slip into bed and curl up into each other's arms they both let out content sighs as they settle. The weight of the day finally hitting their minds and bodies as they lay together. They comfort and console each other away from erratic thoughts and eventually drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should be putting actual plot in this chapter, especially since I said 20 chapter (will probably be more) but I need the fluff! I don’t wanna write the angst it’s so sad! I have everything thought out but writers block is really not helping me get my thought in the metaphorical paper. The struggle... anyway hope you enjoyed!


	15. A Worried Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, that’s correct I’m not dead. I have returned from the depths of uninspiredness. It’s been a very long time and I do sincerely apologize for that. Now though I believe I can continue this story and I’m so glad to do that, I hope I haven’t lost too many of you on the way.

John woke up and Sherlock was gone, he’s not sure what else he expected. There was a problem to be solved -of course- Sherlock was already up and thinking about it. John himself was nervous as to where Jim was and what he was planning but he knew as long as he stayed with Greg and Sherlock he’d be safe.

 

John got up and made his way into the kitchen, watched Sherlock pace from his place at the counter. He made tea for the bother them, listened to Sherlocks mumbling voice from the living room.

 

“Sherlock.” John said to get his attention and his head snapped up toward him. John came over to him and handed him tea glancing at the map on the wall with many pins sticking out of it. “Anything new?”

 

“I have it narrowed down to the two locations with our limited amount of information, though I do believe one is more likely. You may know better than I do, where do you think John?” Sherlock said gesturing to the two circled pins on the map. John assessed them both looking for a familiarity.

 

“Maybe, this one?” John answered questioning his answer already, but picking the lower one.

 

“Why did you pick that one?”

 

“I’m not sure.. just picked one.”

 

“You picked it because it’s familiar.” Sherlock moves the pin so John could see what it was covering.

 

“That’s my old school..” John remembered being terrified of going to that school every morning where Jim and his ‘buddies’ would make his life even more miserable than it already was. “He and his friends used to terrorize me there.”

 

“I’m assuming that is the point of this, for you to remember that fear.”

 

“We’re going there today?”

 

“It’s best to, before he does anything else.” Sherlock looked at John’s seemily beaten expression. “You can stay-” Sherlock offered quietly after a moment.

 

“No, this is my problem I should deal with it.” John replied immediately, he knew he had to face his demons and not just let others fight his battle any longer.

 

“We’ll leave this afternoon.” Sherlock said and went into their bedroom to get ready. Sherlock had apparently had all of John’s few possessions sent to the flat. How John had no idea but he was extremely thankful nonetheless.

 

John followed Sherlock into the bedroom to get dressed as well and when he was done came out to make breakfast. The fridge was -thankfully- stocked with lots of different types of food and John made up some omelets while Sherlock showered.

 

He was afraid, afraid of what was to come, what Jim had to toture him with this time. He wished he could remember more, about what happened when his uncle died then they wouldn’t have to do this.

 

John was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t realize that he was slowly burning the omelette he had on the stove.

 

Sherlock got dressed quickly getting prepared for what may as well be a battle. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes ready to fight for John and he’d have to, he knew it. He steeled himself and goes to his bedside drawer pulling out the gun he kept there for emergencies. -or even just for times of boredom.- He put the SIG in the back waist of his pant line, hiding it within the folds of his jacket.

 

Sherlock adjusted his clothes a bit to hide the indent of the gun better before taking a large breath to get into the right mindset. Doing so he noticed the faint smell of smoke and looked around himself confused before realizing it was coming from the kitchen. Thinking the worst Sherlock rushed to kitchen coughing as he entered the room as smoke was steadily rising.

 

“John!” Sherlock called grabbing John’s arm and pulling him away from the stove before getting a towel and smothering the small flame and charred food. After the fire was put out he placed the pan in the sink and opened the windows to air the place out before coming back to John. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m really sorry Sherlock I didn’t mean to, I swear I only looked away for a second and it just happened.” John rambled nervously, twisting the towel he had been using to waft out the fumes between his hands.

 

“Hey.” Sherlock said holding John’s arms lightly to get his attention. “It’s fine alright? Just an accident.” He assured him rubbing his arms lightly.

 

John nodded quietly before leaning forward into Sherlock who wrapped his arms around John’s small frame. John held onto Sherlock tightly needing the comfort for what was to come.

 

“Talk to me.” Sherlock said softly moving his hands comfortingly up and down Johns back. “I want to help.”

 

“I’m just.. I’m afraid Sherlock.” John said quietly squeezing his eyes shut and breathing in Sherlock’s comforting scent. “Jim he tortured me as a child in any way he could and I didn’t even know why. What is he going to do this time?”

 

“It doesn’t matter, because this time I’ll be right beside you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Sherlock said soft but firm on the matter, leaning back a bit to look into John eyes. “That, I promise and will never break.”

 

“Sherlock..” John looked into Sherlock's eyes, ever changing color and depth. He wanted to say everything he was thinking, everything Sherlock meant to him but there were no words he could come up with to describe it. “Thank you.”

 

“Of course, anytime.” Sherlock smiled softly at him before looking over at the kitchen sink where the pan lay. “Now, clean my pan.” He said with no heat and a grin, moving back.

 

John chuckled softly and went to scrape off what he had burned and try another attempt at cooking. Sherlock made everything better and he felt more at peace with himself knowing that he would always be right beside him.

 

Sherlock smiled softly watching him, he had to assure himself that this would be alright not expressing it allowed to not worry John more. He too was afraid not for himself but for John. He had no idea what they were getting themselves into all he could do was protect him. He hoped it would be enough.

 

~~~

 

Time passed slowly, far too slowly for the two as they finished with the food and ate. Both wanting to get this over with and dreading it entirely, after finishing they cleaned up in silence both stuck in their own thoughts.

 

When there was nothing left for them to for them to do a silent conversation passed between their eyes. Sherlock took hold of John’s hand gently and together they went downstairs. Something neither of them expected awaited on the sidewalk.

 


	16. Education Of Horror

The sound of papers ruffling echoed through the dark building, the only break from darkness the cloudy sky light above, opened just a crack. Shaky fingers marked with stains of various substances flitted through files and documents. Dark eyes gleamed in the dim light.

Tears dripping down cheeks onto the cement, knees bleeding from the glass shattered about. Body shaking in anticipation and grief, breath coming out in labored huffs. 

A string hung from the ceiling and another and another. Millions of them scattered about dangling from the ceiling. At the end of each one a paper, taped to the strings and the nimble fingers connected them all, one by one. 

Like puppets on strings the papers moved as the wind blew through the sky light. Carried away with the wind, a choked sob and a mangled laugh.

~~~

"What are you doing here?" John asked surprised watching as the man leaned back against his car.

"I knew Sherlock would figure it out and drag you into doing something stupid." Greg tutted shaking his head exasperatedly. 

"You can't stop us." Sherlock said lifting his chin to appear more threatening. "It's our decision to make."

"I'm not stopping you. I'm coming with you." Greg said matter of factly and opened the door of his car for them. "Now get in." 

John moved immediately to get into the car not having a problem with this arrangement in the least. Sherlock on the other hand didn't budge not letting go of John's hand therefore not allowing him to get in the car.

"Sherlock, it's better this way. He can help us." John tried to persuade him, tugging at his arm insistently.

Sherlock sighed and after a moment gave in moving towards the car with John not able to deny him anything. "Fine but I'm not responsible if you get hurt." He warned pointing a finger at Greg. 

Greg held up his hands. "I'm just here to make sure you guys are safe don't worry about me." He said before getting into the driver's seat. 

"You're sure about this?" Sherlock asked doubtfully with a resigned sigh not expecting this to end well.

"Yes, I trust him. Besides he's an officer, if anything goes wrong he can call for backup." John reasoned keeping a level head as he could about this. 

"It's not that I don't trust him, it's that I don't want any unnecessary injuries." Sherlock said probably thinking a little too drastically but he had to make sure.

"No one is getting hurt, not any of us." John said firmly before opening up the door and getting into the car pulling Sherlock with him.

~~~

They drove for what seems like ages during which they explain everything they've figured out so far to Greg. Lapsing into silence after there's nothing left to say the only sound the hum of the engine and tires against the pavement.

Past memories fluttered through Johns mind as he stared out the window unsure of what else to do. Anxiety churning in his chest wrapping around his lungs. He forced himself to focus on the contact he had with Sherlock, their hands intertwined between them and on nothing else but that.

They were going into war, a battle of what was still to be determined. No one was prepared, how do you prepare for the unknown? It was impossible to understand what exactly was going to happen, to predict the unpredictable. 

~~~

The car rolled to a stop outside a building in pieces, broken apart by the years that it had stood empty. The second story too the worse of it all though the bottom seemed to be intact. Overgrown weeds and rubbish littering the grounds around it. Metal fencing around the entire place, warning signs attached to every side. 

The men exited the car, the ground wet and mushy beneath their feet from rain the days before. It had taken them a long while to arrive at the building, the sun coming down to rest just at the horizon. A dream like haze lay over the whole place, fog coming up out of nowhere to cover the building like a coat. 

They stood in front looking at the building and silently Sherlock takes John's hand. "Ready?" He asked quietly. 

"I think so." John replied taking a breath before stepping forward Sherlock walking beside him as Greg follows behind. 

One by one they climbed up fence dropping into the grounds of the school before them. Sherlock went first checking the area before allowing them to follow. Warily they look around, every rustle of the overgrowth they all jump at. Each of their nerves a tightly wound coil. 

They arrived at the door and this time Greg goes first, pushing the door open and it creaks on its rusty hinges. He creeps inside looking around for possible traps but the darkness was difficult to see through. 

"Torch?" Greg asked in a whisper turning to the two boys still waiting outside. John steps inside -followed by Sherlock- having brought a small pocket sized torch in case. 

John clicked it on the torch lighting up small sections and he turns it towards the walls, looking around for a light switch which he quickly found. He flipped it on a loud noise comes from the end of the hall startling the three but no lights come on. John takes Sherlocks arm his breathing stuttering. 

"It's alright." Sherlock said soothing, gently taking the torch from John and pointing it down the hall where a door now lay open. "I'll go down first, you stay here with Greg." 

"No, I'm not leaving you alone." John said adamantly not letting Sherlock go off alone now, the only reference he had for this sort of thing was don't split up or you'll get caught. 

"It'll be fine, you can still see me with this." Sherlock assured giving him the torch back. "I'm just going to check." 

"He's right. You shouldn't be alone, I'll go down first." Greg said not letting either of them go down there and get hurt. 

"I don't need your help." Sherlock said immediately leveling a glare at Greg. 

"This isn't a competition, I'm trying to keep you safe." 

"Screw safe, I have to protect John."

"You think I'm not trying to do that?" And so the two started bickering.

John tried to break them up but he couldn't get a word in edgewise. He sighed exasperatedly and turned down towards the hallway himself, he probably should've just come alone. He started to slowly go down the hallway while the two fought away behind him, if James didn't know they arrived before he did now. 

As much as he was glad for Sherlock and Greg's help it was no longer helpful. His heart hammered in his chest as he pointed the torch down into the room, coming up to the door. As far as he could see it was just another hallway, he glanced back at Greg and Sherlock, they were still too absorbed in their fight to notice he left. 

He sighed to himself and steeled himself as much as he could before moving down the second hallway. Somehow the yells from down the hall made him feel a little less scared than complete silence, he could think of that rather than the bad things that could happen. 

He was getting far away from them now a little too far for comfort but it was probably better this way, he didn't want them hurt. Maybe he just had to face this himself.

~~~

A loud clatter echoed down from the hallway and the two men at the entrance two men suddenly frozen, an insult on their lips. A single word passed between their eyes in panic before they turned to the hall and ran as fast as they could through it. Argument forgotten in their haste.

They went down quickly, after passing through the door they came to a halt. Two open doors stood on both sides of them and they turned to each other. 

"I'll go this way." Sherlock said pointing to his right and Greg nodded, turning to his left. Each man went into their room, the doors falling shut behind them and the slamming sound echoed down the hall. 

A torch rolled and flickered lifeless from the light of the door at the end of the hall. It sat between the two doors and unbeknownst to anyone but the lonely torch a toothing grin glimmered in the dark before the entrance door shut, consuming everything in darkness.


	17. Cross Our Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines chapter! No fluff and happiness today people, sorry ^-^ Enjoy!

“John? Come on kid..” Greg called as he ventured into the room and as he made it about five steps inside the room before the door closed behind him. 

He sighed to himself and uttered a string of curses before turning back to the door. There was a distinct high pitched sound as air puffed into his face, he immediately covered his face with his arm attempting to shield himself from the possibly harming substance.

He put his free hand on the wall carefully navigating around the edges in the darkness of the room. He kept his arm cautiously over his mouth and nose not knowing what the sudden air blowing through the room had in it. He had his suspicions it wasn’t actually clean air.

The room was empty he figured out after making his way around the edges only to find one single chair in the middle. The doors locked and he had no way out.

Greg slammed his shoulder up against the metal doors ignoring the burst of pain that burned down his arm. With a muttered string of select curses he stepped back, the doors weren’t budging.

He’d chosen the wrong room and now he could only hope that Sherlock found John and they would be okay.

Shit.

~~~

Sherlock creeped into the room slowly as the door clicked shut behind him. He tried to see into the darkness as his eyes got used to it the only light from the skylight above. 

The room was large and open, a gymnasium of the school it seemed. There were papers hanging from strings in the middle, moonlight shone through the single skylight above as it illuminated the area. 

A silhouette -that Sherlock could only hope was John- stood right before all the papers, frozen there before all the many photographs suspended from the ceiling. 

“John.” Sherlock risked calling out in a hushed whisper. As there’s no movement from the shadowy figure he creeps forward quietly coming up beside the figure. The room was silent his words echoed in an unpleasant way every tiny noise seeming so impossibly loud.

Basked in the soft blue moonlight there stood John looking as if he were frozen in time by his stillness. His breathing coming out in small white puffs into the cold room with fluttering photographs only a few steps ahead of them. John’s eyes were blown wide, transfixed on the papers in front of them, gently swaying in the wind.

“What is it..?” Sherlock asked quietly reaching over and tentatively taking John's hand into his own trying to get a reaction out of him. 

“Sebastian..” John whispered unable to look away from the sight in front of his eyes. It didn’t make any sense and his head was in a whirlwind.

Sherlock looked forward to the pictures and he hadn’t realized before but there were two people on them all. A boy of probably thirteen with blond hair and another only a little bit older than the other with black hair. 

“Who is he?” Sherlock asked taking a step closer to the photos to examine them closer.

“One of Jim’s friends.” John said stepping forward as well beside him pointing to one of the pictures. “This is Sebastian and this is James.” He explained first pointing to the blond haired boy then the darker haired one. 

Sherlock nodded trying to make out some of the pictures in the dark. “I think they were more than just friends John.” He said taking one of the pictures but the corner and angling it for John to see.

The picture was of the two kissing by a lake, a domestic scene that seemed far too strange to Sherlock from what John had said about Moriarty.

“This doesn’t make sense.” John said confused looking down the line of photos. “Why are these here? Why Sebastian? Why..” He sighed looking to Sherlock as he heard papers crunching. “What are you doing?”

“The picture had something on it, it's on my fingers.” Sherlock said with a disgusted face rubbing his fingers together before lifting them to his mouth. John quickly grabs Sherlocks wrist, stopping him from tasting the strange substance.

“Why would you put that in your mouth? It could be poisonous. You’re such an idiot.” John huffed exasperatedly, forcefully wiping off Sherlocks hand on his shirt.

“I had to know what it was.” Sherlock said simply not seeing it as a problem. 

“You don’t do that by eating it. I should’ve just came alone.” John grumbled to himself. “Just don’t put anything in your mouth alright?”

“Fine.” Sherlock agreed with a huff, moving a bit further into the papers looking at all of them trying to figure out what it meant. “You know what this is?”

“No idea.” John said trailing behind him looking at each of the pictures trying not to appear as freaked out as he was. “I only ever met Sebastian once, I never saw him again after that.”

Sherlock hummed lightly touching another one of the pictures that also had the sticky substance over it. 

“Would you stop touching them.” John said, snatching Sherlocks wrist away from the photos. “You don’t know what’s on these things.”

“Actually I think it’s blood.” Sherlock said lifting his hand -with Johns still attached to his wrist- up a bit for better lighting.

“And you were going to eat that blood.” John said exasperatedly rolling his eyes. “Why I brought you, I have no idea. It probably would’ve been easier alone.”

“There was no way you were going to come here alone. If not with me, Greg would’ve followed you.”

“Greg..” John said to himself a moment -for some reason- just realizing that he wasn’t there with them, therefore missing. “Oh no.. Where is he?”

“He went into the other room.” Sherlock pointed back to the door on the other side of the room. 

“You left him alone?” John asked shocked and sighed moving over to the door again, quickly navigating through the papers hoping he wasn’t in danger.

“You went off alone, we were looking for you.” Sherlock defended himself following John over.

“Because you both were fighting like children.” John said throwing a glare at Sherlock, arriving at the door pulling at the handle finding it to be locked. “Great. Of course we’re locked in, I should’ve never brought you here.” He fumed. 

“I was trying to protect you-“ Sherlock started but is cut off by a loud noise coming from behind them and they both freeze. 

“What was that..?” John whispered his breathing increasing in fear, anger forgotten entirely he reaches over and takes Sherlock’s hand. 

Sherlock squeezed John's hand lightly watching Johns breathes float in white puffs into the space between them. He dared to look over turning a bit to see what was behind them that had made the noise. If it weren’t for the moonlight he wouldn’t have seen it, the shining blade beneath all the pictures.

“I’m going to go look.” Sherlock said slowly moving away his hand falling away from Johns as he creeps over to the papers again. 

John turned pressing his back against the door and watching Sherlock go nervously. He looked around the room trying to tell what had just happened with the knife, suddenly being dropped. He tried to see the blade from where he was standing, noticing just barley through the dark the string pooled around it. 

He realized their mistake.

“Sherlock, stop!” John called out, pushing himself away from the door and sprinting towards him but it was too late. 

It would be enough to save him but blood would be shed.

The knives came crashing to the ground.


	18. And Hope To Die

There was a ringing in his ears as he ran but it might as well have been in slow motion as the red string flowed to the ground. Pictures fluttering to the cement as the knives in the ceiling holding each picture up, dropped. Simultaneously they fall to the ground and the silence before they reach their target is terrifying with only John's hurried footsteps to mark how long had passed.

 

The sound of thunder on the stormiest day couldn’t compare to the sound of -what must have been- a thousand knives hitting the floor. Defeating anyone who dared to listen to the horrific screech of metal falling all around. Knives scratching the ground varying in size but all falling the same. Three of them hitting Sherlock.

 

One slicing it’s way down Sherlock’s back before hitting the floor, another hitting his arm and as he starts to fall forward the last stabbing into his leg as he hits the ground. There was no scream, there was no cry, Sherlock didn’t make a sound but his body hitting the floor heavily. A thump as the ringing echoed throughout the space and the great hero fell.

 

“Sherlock.. no, no.” John said in horror under his breath as he drops to his knees beside him not able to hold himself up, landing right into the pool of blood that starts to flow from Sherlocks wounds.

 

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” John whispered roughly as his throat closes his up not wanting to believe the sight in front of him. His hands hovering over his body uselessly in shock not able to comprehend.

 

Sherlocks body bleeding out, right in front of his eyes John quickly remembers he had to save him. He shakily presses his hands to Sherlocks back watching as blood pools between his fingers and he feels the urge to retch in the sick fascination.

 

They had both been underneath the knives and pictures if they hadn’t have moved they both would have been killed. Sherlock had saved John really, by going ahead and seeing what the noise was before him. John would never forget it, that is if they ever got out of this alive, he’d spend his whole life repaying it.

 

John had to shake himself from his own thoughts needing to focus on Sherlock and keeping him from bleeding out. He quickly took off his jacket, first aid training kicking in as he wraps it up and ties it around Sherlocks bicep as a tourniquet. He removes his over shirt as well, pressing it to his back needing to keep the bleeding down. He had to stay calm and keep a level head if he ever wanted to get out of this with Sherlock alive.

 

It terrified him to no end.

 

Every jagged breath from Sherlock gave John just a little bit more hope as he tried to tend to his wounds. The knife still in Sherlocks leg was the worst of them but John knew better than to remove it without having anything to bandage it with. The knife was thankfully relatively small and with that small good thing John hope it didn’t hit anything important.

 

Suddenly among Johns inner chaos there were noises coming from around them and his heart stopped as he held his breath, the intermittent clicking of feet on stairs of metal. The stairs were just in the other room he remembered horrified but the fact. He knew he had to act fast. They were right out in the open, right in the center of the old gymnasium but John didn’t think he could carry Sherlock especially without hurting him immensely and he couldn’t drag him, there would be too much blood.

 

John shook Sherlock as gently as he could to not disturb his wounds but he had to wake up. He tried his best to wake him while keeping from opening his wounds further but it just wasn’t working.

 

“Sherlock. Sherlock.” John whispered trying not to panic as the sound got closer, he shook a bit harder in vain. “Come on.. wake up. Please.” He begged shaking him desperately, it was the only way.

 

~~~

 

The air was warm a soft breeze blew over him as he rested. His eyes closed he savored the softness of his surroundings the ruffling of leaves could be heard in a soothing manner. Not a sound but those of nature around him as the scene unfolds slowly.

 

Sherlock opened his eyes a blue sky with a soft fuzzy glow about it was the first thing he saw. A tree to his right he saw next with leaves of green and yellow shades, some falling around him. The whole scene had an almost angelic glow to it and Sherlock had never seen anywhere as beautiful.

 

“Sherlock.” A quiet voice called and so Sherlock sat up slowly, the bright and warmth around him calming and peaceful. He turned, seeing John beside him sitting in the grass of such colors, lush bushes and trees behind him.

 

“Sherlock.” John called again with a smile adorning his lips as he took Sherlocks hands in his own, gently moving his fingers over his pale knuckles.

 

“Wake up.” John said with his voice of silk as he brushes a hand through Sherlocks curls cupping the side of his face. He watched him softly with an expression of adoring, his eyes a deep blue that reminded Sherlock of the ocean.

 

“I am awake.” Sherlock said finally finding his own voice, he didn’t understand what John meant as the blue in the sky seems to turn a bright blinding light. He didn’t mind though not understanding it didn’t bother him, not with how he was feeling at that moment.

 

“Wake up.” John repeated softly with a shake of his head and cups the other side of Sherlock's face as well, resting their foreheads together he closes his eyes. “Wake up.”

 

Sherlock closed his own eyes and instead of the black that he expected to see, a blinding white clouds his vision and he’s unable to see anything but that. There’s so much white and he suddenly feels faint as he opens his eyes to see the world crumbling away and there’s nothing but the white surrounding him.

 

Sherlock breathed out, a feeling of tranquility falling over him as he seemed to float aimlessly in the white void. Circling and floating through the bright light he feels at peace and with a smile it all fades away.


	19. Death Is A Luxury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been gone a while oop- sorry. Lost motivation for a while but I’m back into it! I’ve upped the chapter thing because I don’t know exactly when this will finish chapter wise but it definitely won’t be twenty.

“How was school?” 

Sigh. 

“Boring. They never teach anything interesting.”

Laugh.

“What do you want to be taught?” 

Smile.

“How to handle knives.”

~~~

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open slowly, the feeling of tranquil numbness following him as he woke. How long he had been out he wasn’t sure but he felt so light it didn’t matter. The image of the lush green field and bushy trees still fresh in his mind as he opened his eyes.

The darkness is unexpected compared to the bright scenery of his dream and he soon realizes that’s all it was. He hazey wave of dread is now at the forefront of his mind as his eyes adjust and he finally is able to focus on what is around him once again. 

A rush of blood to Sherlock's head and the world came into focus, the adrenaline kicking in as he tried to sit up.

“Sherlock.” John says in a whisper a rush of relief washing over him as he finally wakes up. “Careful, come on we need to go.”

“What happened?” Sherlock asks with a groan not recalling as he sits up not feeling much of the pain yet still coming back to himself. 

John shakes his head not wanting to say and have Sherlock panic or something if he realizes he’s hurt. “We need to go, someone is coming.” He says, carefully taking Sherlocks good arm and helping him up.

There was this moment that they stood and it was fine, that somehow Sherlock didn’t notice. The intense feeling of pain doesn’t register to the unknowing mind. There’s many different kinds of pain but when a pain is so great, too great to bear, one tends to not recognize they are even in pain. 

That is until they see that they are hurt. Seeing that they are in fact the one with the wound, bleeding out and falling apart in front of their own eyes. 

That’s when the panic sets in.  
That’s when the fear sets in.  
The dread.   
The pain.  
The ache.  
The blood.  
The scream.  
The death.  
The funeral.

Unfinished goodbyes.  
Everything left unsaid,  
darling.

~~~

“I told you already.” He laughed, a carefree laugh with a light smile playing about his lips.

“Say it again. Just once more.” He longingly asked looking to his newly found lover, their eyes meeting dreamily.

“I love you.” He breathed out softly and their lips met just brushing together softly. The world stopping for the two were one.

Together they laid through the night drifting in and out of dreams, peace and the tranquility of love washing over the both of them. As they slept.

~~~

Sherlock groaned his arm hitting the metal door with a dull thud that echoed throughout the hallway.

Their breathing was ragged as they rushed through hall after hall searching for a way of escape. 

The sound of footsteps followed them down the halls, shiny shoes in Sherlock’s blood sticking to the floor as they walked.

His body half dragging across the floor and walls trying to stay upright.

Clawing to the walls, scratching at the paint and leaving blood stains everywhere.

“Where’s the exit?” Sherlock asked out of breath and trudging along with John's help.

“I thought I knew but everything seems different.” John said helplessly trying to understand why it wasn’t the same. 

They rushed, tripping over their own feet and sliding in crimson liquid.

Down the hall and the next, and the next.

The click, click of elegant shoes on cement, ever present behind the two but never a body to be seen. 

The crimson dripped down the walls as a body slid down to the floor.

“Come on Sherlock, we have to go.” John urged trying to pull him up again.

Sherlock shook his head, breathing heavily and fighting to stay conscious. Blood loss affecting his functions.

“We have to get you help and I can’t carry you, come on Sherlock, please get up.” John begged, glancing down the hall as he heard the footsteps getting closer.

“You go.” Sherlock said weakly, gesturing down the hall.

“No way, I’m not leaving you.” John said stern on that matter, there was no way that was happening.

“You need to.” Sherlock insisted, trying to push him away.

“So do you. We do this together or not at all, okay?” John asked, wanting him to know he wasn’t going anywhere.

“But John-“

“No. There’s no way in hell I'm leaving you here alright?” John said sternly and took a breath. “I love you and I’m not going to lose you.”

“You.. what?” Sherlock asked thinking he was starting to hallucinate from blood loss.

“I love you. I know this isn’t the best time but it’s true.” John said with a light smile which froze immediately as a cold ragged laugh came from behind him.

“Heartwarming.” A gleaming white smile said in the distance, echoing through the halls over and over.

The clicking of shoes stopping, as does the breathing and everything goes silent.

For just one moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe, stay clean everyone!


End file.
